Five Days Darkness waits some time for most of the Exalts to clear out of the hangar.  By this time he finally (silently) accedes to Lyla's statement and breaks away from her, leading her away from the hangar and towards the ship elevator.  Lyla knows from her trips to the Enterprise this leads to the bridge, which means Five Days Darkness must have some business.

This business is short.

"XO Chambers,"  He addresses a Fire-Aspect who's been watching the bridge, "You have command."

"Sir?"  The woman salutes Five Days Darkness and then Lyla, worry etched all over her sharp face,  "... Yes sir."  Lyla's talked to Executive Officer Alice Chambers before; the woman usually has very good control over her emotions, and is quite good at reading people's signals.  She must notice something Lyla doesn't.  "She's in good hands, sir.  Don't worry."

"I'm not worried about you or the Enterprise."  Watching a four-armed man salute with two hands is a bit disorienting.  He then turns back to the elevator, pressing his thumb on a keypad that Lyla had noticed in the past but never seen used.  The back of the elevator opens, revealing a small suite.  There's a spartan bed, a desk, a long table with a holographic map of the Enterprise (most of it spattered with yellow and orange markings), and a holotable showing nearby ships and their positions relative to the Enterprise.

This must be where he lives.

Well, 'lives' implies he actually visits.  Lyla can see no evidence that the god has ever done anything but sit in the chair by the table.  It looks so clean it's practically antiseptic.

The god walks over to his chair and takes a seat.

"Sorry.  Make yourself at home,"  He gestures at the too-clean room, "I'm going to have to start drafting up reports for Core and Command soon.  Core will want them within the hour."

Lyla silently follows in Five Days Darkness' footsteps, doing what she said she would. Despite being tired, she can't tone away her curiousity. Upon entering the bridge she gives a salute, it being a bit lazy one, done out of sheer habit. Her attention is split to all the monitors and maps as well as to the view outside, while the two change those few words.

A small glint of amusement brightens her mind, when the strange unused button is pushed. Naturally she'd already tried a few times before to tamper with it, because someone dared her to, and who was she to say no to such a thing. The amusement is washed away with partial relief, that she had never actually succeded in it.

The small revealed suite somehow reminds her of her Vegas days. Except that her flat was far from clean, but furniture wise. At least it had space. She hesitates for a moment before stepping in, and then momentarily she just stands there dumbstruck.

Eventually she shrugs it off, and having had enough of hard seats for a day, she takes a seat on the bed, leaning on the wall behind it, whilst kicking her boots off. It all happens automatically in a tired haze, before she actually stops to think what she is doing.


"Umh. Do say if I'm being too much at home," she admits a tint of blush flushing her cheeks. "Anything I can help with?"

She obviously considers adding the formal "sir" to her lines, but they are lost on the way. No point.

His bed is actually pretty soft, with no lumps- in the manner of every mattress ever purchased, just before it's been slept in.  It's more of a decoration than anything else.

"There's a few things, yes," He says as he pulls a thin laptop and starts typing away, "You've been in and out of the fleet since the very first days.  Especially at Stone Place."  He looks over at her, face serious, "Lyla, anyone you think is due for a promotion?"

Of course, that's an open-ended question- she could probably think of a bunch.

"Specifically to the rank of Admiral.  Ah.  And let me know if you'd like any food or drink or other kind of refreshment."

"Icecold Vodka is always welcome, but other than that water is enough," Lyla answers promptly, before her brain manages to tackle the harder questions presented.

"Eh."

She hesitates and runs her fingers through her tangled up hair. Eventually she takes off the rubberband keeping together her brown hair, and shakes her head.

"Someone suitable to be an Admiral? To be responsible of a whole ship with a crew. Hard to say since we are all a just big bunches of mess trying to do our best barely capable of taking care of ourselves. Why an Admiral though, are you leaving your post or are you in need of a new one?"

It all comes out with serious concern, her brow furrowing once again.

"No, an Admiral is in charge of a group of ships.  A captain's in charge of a ship with crew.  Currently I an an Admiral of the Living Fleet, but also the Captain of the Enterprise."

He looks over at her, waving a hand.  A shot of cold vodka appears on the nightstand.  Since Five Days Darkness isn't a god of alcohol, Lyla knows she has to be in his sanctum:  his spiritual home.

"I'm afraid I won't be an admiral much longer.  I'll have to find a competent replacement and there's not much time to choose one.  I'm also perhaps not in the best mindset to choose rationally."

"Resting would help in that, but it seems you are not too keen on doing that," she notes while reaching for the glass and adding a mumbled:"Thank you."

"I'm honored to be asked of an opinion on such matter, but that being said, I don't think I know the others well enough to suggest anyone, apart from myself, Daniel and Jess. What I can do, is get information on almost everyone."

Lyla looks over at him, raises the shot and then downs it at one go.

"The three of us are not without a flaw that is a bit hazardous for such a title. Who do you have in mind then? And what will you do when you aren't an admiral anymore?"

There is something to his declaration, that makes Lyla cringe and her jaw tighten. She folds her arms on her chest and looks at him intensely.

"There may not be enough time to get that kind of information,"  He says wearily, "I'm not sure who I have as an idea but it should be someone we trust.  I'll have to remain captain of the Enterprise, in this I don't have much of a choice, which means whoever gets appointed becomes my superior."

He taps away at the keyboard some more.  It's awkward, given his number of hands.  You'd expect him to be a much better typist but they just get in the way.

"When Lucifer called my commanding skills into question in the middle of the flight deck, he put doubt in the minds of my pilots.  He did this right in front of Brahe, right after slugging him in the face."  One of his hands reaches up to rub his forehead, "Brahe has been calling for a change of government through all the back channels.  Specifically he wants to establish an Admiralty, a Board of Admirals, which is something we've been considering but haven't implemented.  Right now I'm in command of most of the fleet.  But you can bet your ass that the moment the Last Refuge hears about this... 'debacle'... Brahe will make a very good and reasonable point about creating the Admiralty to avoid things like this in the future.

Then we'll have perhaps five admirals, seven if we count in people like General Sunipa.  Of those, I can count on Sunipa and Battles and myself.  The other four will include a demon General and three of our up-and-coming politician-admirals, meaning they'll be in Brahe's pocket.  Those four will pressure and I'll be removed.  The alternative is to resign now, put someone a bit more palatable in my place, and try to head off this coup before it can even start."

He glances over at her.  "Sorry to bore you with politics.  The worst part is I'm not even sure Brahe is wrong about this.  But I am, of course, worried and upset."

"It's alright. Politics is just not my strong suite," she gives a small sight, before pushing herself up and walking to his table.

"Daniel really wasn't himself earlier. Usually he wouldn't bring his opinion out that violently. If he was able to control himself, he'd be perfect as a leader and 110 percent worthy of trust. He'd need a strong second in command. But he dislikes politics almost as much as I do. On the other hand I can tolerate the scheming and backstabbing, it being all too familiar to me."

She rests her backside to the edge of the table.

"If you need a temporary solution, just choose me or anyone who can handle it all for a while. I just have bad experiences with publicity, unlike my brother."

"No, he wasn't.  I don't know Lucifer particularly well outside of the battlefield, but I know despite his opinions he's not one to explode on a fellow compatriot out in public.  He'd wait until much later,"  Five Days Darkness says wryly.  "And I don't think he has the makings of a good admiral.  He's a front-line fighter and should be kept there.  A good admiral knows when to sit back, when to, and possibly when to let people die.  Lucifer can't accept that, and to be blunt he probably shouldn't accept it.  That's what makes him effective in his current role."

He drums twenty fingers on the desk, one of his hands close to her.

"I'd rather not inflict the Admiralty Board on you Lyla, not unless you'd really like to give being my superior a try."

Lyla nods in agreement to his judgement about Daniel.

"Right you are, I know Daniel like a brother. Also I think he is content where he is right now. Forcing him to sit behind a desk would drive him crazy."

She leans a bit back, laying her other hand accidentally on his. It's a soft careless touch after which she moves her hand on the table, a bit surprised herself by the coincidental touch.

"Now that...sounds awful lot like a dare. I never back down from one. Besides I'd be more worried on the board as well, instead of being your superior."

Apparently the one shot of vodka was working its way rather well through her layer of tiredness and sadness, pushing out the jesting tone in her voice.

"How soon do you have to announce your replacement? Now? In few hours? Tomorrow? Because currently I think a much better option is to have a shot of vodka and try to rest that head of yours. When's the last time you even did that?"

The she realizes what has escaped her mouth and she smiles vaguely apologetically:"Sorry about that...and I'm not even the one who hit her head."

"As much as I'd find hatt interesting, I don't think it'd be right for you either.  You've done a lot of amazing work for the fleet.  I think your talents would be wasted behind a desk."  He leans back on his chair, though not moving his hands away.

"If I want to get the jump on Brahe I have to tender my resignation and appoint a successor within an hour."

He summons himself a drink.  Water, it seems.

"Last time I slept?  Nine years, I think."

"You just don't want me to be on top," Lyla smirks kindly. "Resting is much more than sleeping. It's talking nonsense, focusing on something completely random, doing something that you love, something that gives you respite. Sometimes when I can't get my mind to be at ease or need to think something through, I go to dance at Jolie's club. In example that is."

She raises her other foot on the table edge to lean her chin on her knee. Lyla tugs her scarf tighter around herself, sliding her fingers on the back of his hand, his warmth feeling almost scorching in comparison to her ice cold fingers.

"If you want someone savvy politics and outside of these circles appoint my brother or Sayeed of the ifrit. Unfortunately they are not military savvy, or at least my brother isn't," she continues professionally, while a hint of blush lurks it's way to her cheeks.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:35, Thu 27 Oct 2016.

"... Yes, that'd be six years," Five Days Darkness tells her, "When the Enterprise was getting a refit."

He finally looks at her hand, then back at her, raising an eyebrow.  He doesn't withdraw his own hand.  "I don't know Sayeed, but the Ifrit would certainly be happy to put someone on the Admiralty Board.  The Elementals have felt underrepresented in the Living Fleet.  I could perhaps put in a word with them.  I'm sure they'd respond to me quickly."

"I can contact him immediately if you'd like. But yes, that'd someone you could count on and who'd be ready to lead. He was the first to contact me, Sol excluded, after my exaltation. Without his guidance I wouldn't be here," she nods burying her chin to her scarf and closing her eyes, mainly because she didn't know what to respond to that arched brow of his.

"I was without any rest from the early age of four to being over twenty. I learned of its importance the hard way and by force after my career was destroyed," she does her best to not sound bitter about it, like it wouldnt bother her anymore. "But then again sixteen years doesn't sound like much in the ears of someone who is practically immortal."

She smiles a tad, brushing her hair back, while letting her fingers lightly caress the back of his hand.

"Does anyone else know of your decision? Have you consulted, lets say, Battles? Or was this case so urgent and I just happened to be conveniently around?"

"Sixteen years is an instant.  I was born in an abyss of time.  But don't let that fool you.  A day can be an abyss, a night can be an instant." He tells her, his other hand falling atop her own once she starts caressing his hand.  He continues to type with two others.  "I brought you here for two reasons.  The first is because I trust your judgment.  If I talked to Battles, he'd have tried to organize a meeting between myself and Lucifer and Brahe, attempted to convince me to hold my position, any sort of thing- when I know what can and must be done, and know there isn't the time for it."

He continues to stare straight ahead, "The second reason, of course, is because I enjoy your company and this is a trying time."

"A meeting between you, Battles, Daniel and Brahe would've been a cherry on top of this all," she chuckles sarcastically. "When people make up their mind, I see it as unnecessary to try to force them to do otherwise. Ending up doing otherwise is more than often just pleasing the other people while giving up on things you'd like for yourself."

No matter how she tries to hide her face into her scarf the redness flushes all over to her ears. Suddenly she feels an odd mix of being both hot and cold at the same time.

"The feeling's mutual...It's effortless..talking with you. It's much better to share these times."

She takes a peek at him, a small warm smile decorating her lips.

"To be fair, it's not like I particularly want to do this."  He gestures at the computer as he types and grabs hold of her hand, "But it's necessary after what happened today."

He finally turns to look at her, staring at her.  His eyes are sad steel.  "It's good to enjoy each other's company.  But I'm not sure that now is the best time.  And I'm not sure that any of it is fair to you.  I can't leave the Enterprise.  And an association with me may reflect poorly on you, though I know you couldn't give a damn about what most of the politicians think."

Lyla waves a dismissive hand.

"Work is work. I'm lucky cause I already did my share of work. No need to apologize."

When he takes a hold of her hand, she is forced to focus her attention to him, raising her brows.

"whatever you wish to call this, it is far better than the other option, which is that I'd be in my broom closet moping over the deaths of those in battle and how incompetent I was, lacking in speed," she faces him with a determined look, laying her own other hand on his two. "Politicians should know about something's existence before making their mind about it. And you are right, I don't give a damn. In all fairness, if anything goes wrong, you are the one stuck thinking about it for an eternity, and that is somethin I don't want to happen.."

"..BUT.." She emphasizes. "I never say no before at least trying, especially when the cost is something I'm ready to pay for."

She turns her general direction more to him, tilting her head to the side.

"Broom closet?  I'd rather hope your quarters aren't that small."  He answers, "A pre-Exodite should be given one of the larger, better suites.  I apologize. on behalf of my crew.

Yes.  I'd be in the same condition, I think.  It's not easy to send people out, knowing most won't make it back alive.  It's a reason why I think you shouldn't try to become an admiral.  If you think this badly about them when you were just following orders- how bad would you feel if you made the orders in the first place?"

He looks sad, dark.  Like the light has left him.  But he finally nods, eyes catching hers.

"I'm sorry for this.  I really am.  But I'm much better at this game than you are.  I have an unfair advantage."

He puts a third hand atop her second.  VICTORY!

"It's not your crews fault. I gave up the suite, I don't need that much space alone. Yes, I never said I'd be the best candidate to be an admiral, I value my freedom of choice too much."

A mix of being first concerned then baffled covers her face with the sudden jesting thrown at her. It's like she'd suddenly ran out on witty responses, so she stretches her foot on top of the pile of hands.

"It's not cheating if it's not forbidden."

"Still beating you,"  He says as he brings his other hand atop her foot, "Well, you shouldn't have done that.  We need you in tip-top shape.  Your well-being is of primary concern for the fleet:  mental, physical, spiritual."

He gives her the smallest smile- just a bit of his lips curving upwards, the only one she's ever seen from him.  It looks alien on him.

"Honestly, I should've known where your room was in the first place.  I should shoulder that blame.   Serenity is always harping about Exalted Morale and I usually tend to nod off when she goes into a rant."

She chuckles, softly and lightly. There is a moment where she seems to actually consider stretching her other foot to the same pile. She seems deeply concerned when the idea still feels very bad and she does not follow it through...immediately.

"I was counting on you busying your extra hands with work. Though I'm delighted to be wrong."

Lyla smirks and stretches her second leg on top of the ridiculous pile, struggling to remain balance.

"My morale is easily boosted by other means than how fancy my room is. HA, got you!" She celebrates her very quickly fading victory, when losing balance and toppling to the side, forced to release her feet and hands.

"Hn."

He seems flummoxed at first, but she quickly starts to lose balance.  He catches her- one hand grabbing her waist, another grabbing her shoulder, and doesn't strain at all as he keeps her suspended in the air.

"I hope that was effective in boosting your morale." He states, raising her back to his desk and plopping her back down on it, closer to his computer this time.  "As cathartic as continuing this little game would be, I really do have to finish these reports.  I apologize for being a bit of a bore."

"I'm not here to be entertained or for you to babysit," she smiles equally surprised by his strength.

She crosses her legs when being plopped back down, turning to gaze into the distance.

"If you have time after that even for a minute, it's more than alright. No harm taken if you'd rather work without me bothering though," she unwraps her scarf, her fingers not so cold anymore. "also I'm sorry to be such a mess in your well organized room."

"You're fine where you are," Five Days Darkness tells her, "And you're not making a mess, nor is this room organized.  Having nothing doesn't make you an organized person."

He starts pecking away at the keyboard, brow furrowed. "My- let's call him brother- wasn't an organized person either.  I've some memories of him as he was.  Sol Invictus was at best scatterbrained, as can be expected from a being made up of all of humanity's subconscious.  What was he like when you met him?"

"Well my flat in Vegas was in a pretty similar shape with the difference that there are no clothes spread around," she shrugs dumping her scarf on the floor next to the table as if fixing the situation.

"hmh."

"What was he like? Tall, handsome.. and warm above everything else. I met him while I was going to go and beat up the rest of the Yakuza with my bare fists just to get my friend back. I had no idea I was going up against anything supernatural," Lyla begins to pull her piloting gloves off, one finger at a time by natural habit. "I really wasn't sure what to think at the time, so I just followed him when he grabbed me by the arm and wanted to talk. Somehow you forget to ask questions when time stops around you. Yeah, you could also kind of tell that he wasn't used to looking at things through a basic humans point of view. Because he took our discussion to a nearby strip joint and sat me on his lap, and didn't really seemed phased by it...I mean sure, I'm not much compared to the otherwordly beauties I've come across on Last Refuge, but it's not a generic thing to do to a person. I think he thought I'd feel at home," a partial amused grin decorates her face. "Not to mention that my exaltation was handed to me like it'd be my lifetime's biggest tip, which it ofcourse was."

She dumps her other glove to the same pile with her scarf, letting out a little chuckle.

"I've never spoken of this to anyone. It's better for people to think we exalted valiantly. People still think highly of Sol and I don't want to ruin it for them, even if I consider it comforting for him to having been so human."

Five Days Darkness winces at the thought.  "Remember he was built out of humanity's subconscious.  That did not necessarily make him a particularly polite or observant person." He looks over at her as she takes off her gloves, "Thank you, I do appreciate that.  Eventually I'm sure the histories will get things right, even if some of the more unsavory things will be glossed over."

He finishes the first section of the report, and from her perch Lyla can see it's actually fairly descriptive of the battle.  It includes a list of people- casualties.

"If he'd known that the connotations were negative, he'd have been mortified.  I don't think you should be embarrassed, though.  Taking on gangsters bare-handed?  That's as valiant as it gets."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, it was not negative or impolite. More or less only baffling when I've been thinking it through later. It's not like I was forced to take a seat. I think my exaltation suit that time of my life rather well...at the least it's not something to forget," Lyla bites the second gloves fingertips thoughtfully before tugging it off.

"Right you are, that part is valiant when taken out of context. Before that moment I had first danced to their boss, then beaten him to a pulp with a coatrack, set the strip club on fire and escaped to my apartment... Most of this time wearing nothing at all, and that is the part that makes my story sound more like a comedy than exaltation. Especially when you compare it Daniel's zombie bears."

She peers to the document, curiously reading the events from another point of view. It does give her a better insight to what really happened.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 23:35, Mon 31 Oct 2016.

"It could be worse,"  He remarks as a hand reaches over and grabs Lyla's scarf, draping it across his neck and shoulders.  "You could've Exalted after drafting a particularly good- or bad- poem.  Both have happened, if you'd believe the records."

The document is quite well-drafted and unflinchingly critical of the battle plan, the pilots, and himself.  It includes statistics, such as the number of shots the Enterprise took, the number of mortal deaths, an assessment of Kumiho.  Then there are other assessments.  She can see a few, including her own...

Lyla:  Indispensable asset.

But most importantly it talks about the role of mortals, which is the latest he's typed up-

"Necessary in short and long term.  Assessments must be made about their deployment.  This could be an attempt to break our will and morale and fail to send mortals into battle.  This could be part of a larger strategy to reduce our defense in depth."

He grunts and cracks a few knuckles, "One thing I won't miss being an admiral- the reports.  I feel like I spend more time on reports than I do anything else.  It's as if the real battle is being waged in the depths of our bureaucracy, Abyssal agents sneaking around and making my life more and more difficult with a new metric to submit for analysis."

Lyla doesn't really try to hide the fact that she was reading the document. It's interesting to see everything in numbers. Ofcourse they might go them through in the debfriefing, but she was not particularly keen on those meetings. Usually everybody where too tired and too exhausted and too opinionated in those.

"If you advertise me more, I'm sure that they'll soon deem me completely irreplacable, and place a chain and a ball around my ankle. But still..thanks."

There is a whiff of smoke and vanilla in the air, when he picks up her scarf.

"Yeah, sometimes it feels like the jobs that we do out on the field mean nothing when it comes to the terror that spreads in the official documents, of which most are likely exaggerated by people who weren't even around... I've done my share of tracking those claimed Abyssal Agents, but they never happen to roam around in the Underdecks..." she shrugs, the tone of her voice light. "So, what would you rather do with the time that you spend on writing reports?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:52, Tue 01 Nov 2016.

"Resources are tied down.  Assets are given autonomy.  Core will know what I mean." He answers confidently, "Michael and I used to talk in those last few days.  I respect him and he respects me, but not enough to ignore the facts."

Five Days Darkness saves and sends.  Then he turns to look at Lyla carefully, considering her.

"Rest.  Relax.  Play a game of chess.  Maybe play some sports," He answers her seriously after those pregnant moments, his voice deep.  "All of which I think would be the wrong answers for today.  What do you prefer to do in your spare time?"

There is a shadow of a joke on her face when the question is presented, but she doesn't let it out, discarding the joke. She leans forward, propping her elbow to her knee, and resting her jaw on her palm. Her head is slightly tilted to the right, when she in return lets a moment slide before answering.

"That was fast. The report I mean. And I don't know. I'm not good with keeping spare time. Usually that spare time goes to catching up with people I have neglected. If I have nothing, nothing else to pursue or have had my share of the Underdecks, I go see Jolie, drink and dance, act like nothing weird is going on. She tries to pursuade me to perform everytime I go there," a grin tugs her lips as she shakes her head. "But when I don't do that I read and listen to music. Though as you said none of these would be suitable for today. I couldn't possibly focus on reading...Thus I'm glad you accidentally saved me from the trouble of thinking something to do."

"I sped things up.  Some shorthand,"  He says in reply, "Enough of it, at any rate, that if they want more they can bother me about it in a few more hours."

He pushes back from his desk and leans back in his chair, "Why does Jolie keep asking you to perform?  And how many times has she managed to convince you?  With this fleet being the gossipy hothouse that it is, I'm expecting none.  The mortals are always watching."

He looks at her awkwardly and clears his throat, "Seems we have quite a bit in common.  Besides the performing, of course, I've never been one for crowds.  It's why I've kept the crowds small at briefings."

He holds the position and then stands up, pacing around the desk.

"I think she asks for it because she knows I like it, to a certain degree. Also think about the publicity that it'd bring to her club if I would agree to perform publicly. Behind the scenes and after hours, I've done so twice, but only her present. She also likes to hear ideas for coreographies. Now that I think of it, it sounds awfully seedy, especially as a thing to be told to an admiral, that I spend my freetime in a place such as that or Underdecks, but they just feel safer when it comes to crowds," she smirks, a familiar blush colouring her ears.

"The meetings are hectic as it is, add more people to it and it'd be uncontrollable. Why is that though, why don't you like crowds?" she releases her hands to lean back in order to at least try to look at him when talking.

"Don't worry about that.  I won't be an admiral for much longer, remember?"  He shakes his head, "The reason?  The Sun likes crowds.  The Sun when eclipsed doesn't.  It's part of my very makeup.  I'm not meant to be seen or even looked at.  Like most of the people on the Last Refuge, I'm forced into a role I should not have and would not normally want."

He pauses when he's right behind her.  He looks down at her upturned face.

"I like it when your ears turn red like that.  Though it is a little distracting."

Lyla probably had something to note about role's being shared and chosen, but her tongue is stuck between her teeth as her whole face is flushed with the same shade of red, upon the notion of a blush. She gives an embarrased smile to compromise.

"They are? Distracting from what? I partially wish I could notice it better myself... though It's not like I could stop it by pushing a button."

"Distracting me from everything.  I've yet to consider whether that's a good or bad thing,"  He gives her a small nod, "Since there's a limit to the amount of things that I can do today that would be considered productive, I'll go with the good."

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"So if it existed, I'd rather you didn't push that button.  As I said, I rather like it when you blush.  You didn't strike me as the sort to be easily embarrassed."

"Glad to hear its a good distraction, I can almost thank myself for accidentally forcing you to relax productively."

She momentarily flops down on her elbows.

"I'd leave that button pushing for you to be done, if my blush would bother you. Doubt I could reach it myself," she really doesn't help her own cause. "Ahem. Yeah, I'm definitely not the smoothest social butterfly. I'm left dumbfound when there are things I'd like to say, and they end up coming out the wrong way or most of the time not at all."

She straightens up, forcing to turn her gaze away from him, while resting her shoulders.

"In example right now I'd like to impress you, but it doesn't seem to be happening as far my part is concerned, so I'm embarrassed."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:06, Wed 02 Nov 2016.

"It's alright.  Neither am I.  I'm not exactly good at interpersonal interactions,"  He admits.  "But you don't need to do anything right now to impress me.  Lyla, I'm already impressed.  I've been paying attention to you for a long time."

He breathes a deep sigh and puts hands on each of her shoulders and takes a hold of her waist.

"That sounded worse than I intended.  But I think you get the point?"

"Yeah, it sounded just mildly wrong. You are talking to a spy after all, so I get your point," she chuckles and leans back to him.

"Here I thought you just said that you didn't have free time for anything, and then you say that you've been spending it on stalking me," she jests with a chuckle, before laying her hands across her torso to his hands that lay on her waist.

"Hardly stalking.  Remember, I'm the Admiral of the Fleet- at least for another hour or so.  We've discussed your work at the highest levels.  There's a reason I put you in charge of retrieving the crew of the Odysseus.  I think you were the only person capable of the focus and skill necessary to pull it off."

He squeezes her waist.

"I admit.  I may have requested the occasional extra dossier on you after Ceres."

"Good to hear that there has been something to brighten your workdays. Oh, that delivery was quite something, I managed to surprise myself as well... I had not really planned on dragging Longinus and Odysseys with me," she muses.

She sighs deeply, finally relaxing after all the stress, relieved at him being close. Lifting her feet on the edge of the table, she curls up, turning to rest her cheek to his chest.

"I may have once or twice tried to get my hands on reports about myself...Got bored pretty quickly. Guessed there was nothing THAT interesting."

"Nothing about your personal life, of course, but you have a long history of heroics that caught my attention- especially since few people even know who you are."  His chest is warm but silent.

Until 10 seconds later she hears the first 'ba-BUMP', like a drummer slamming on a bass drum with all their might.  His heart beats slow.

"There was a debate about it.  Whether or not we should hold you up in front of the masses, you know, like the rest.  I argued against it.  I'm glad my instincts were correct."

"Mmm, quite right indeed. It'd have been a waste if I'd stayed in the back, and most likely would've resulted in me breaking formation to drag their asses there one way or another, without a helping hook."

Lyla nuzzles her cheek against his chest, and closes her eyes for a moment to listen to that slow heart beat.

"Of course there is nothing about my personal life, that'd lead to people actually knowing who I am," she jests. "As much as I like to fly under the radar, it's always nice to hear that my work pays off especially from those to whom I'd hope it to matter."

Once again she opens her eyes, craning her neck to the side to take a look at him.

"A couple million people probably owe their lives to you," He tells her, "So yes, your work certainly pays off-"

He's about to say more when she looks up at him.  One of the hands on her shoulders cups her chin, angling her face up towards him just right.  Their eyes lock.

His body changes like a mighty glacier, going in for the kiss-

- and there's a soft chime as his laptop registers new mail.

"Fuck them,"  He growls as his lips meets hers.

"..for once," she manages to let out a whispered mumble.

Uninhibited giggle escapes from her upon the laptop chiming away, but it's not like she'd resist, willingly succumbing to her fate. All her muscles tense momentarily, only to turn soft and warm quickly after, when she tilts her body to the side to face him. It's not difficult to notice that the kiss was a long waited one with her eager, yet a bit shy response. Her fingers slide up his arms to wrap hers around his neck.

Kissing in this position is awkward but still enjoyable- and scant seconds later (milliseconds?  it happens so fast) he's maneuvered them so they're face to face, kiss never breaking, four hands holding her as if afraid she'd disappear...

... until they surface some time later, warm and panting, a scowl appearing on Five Days Darkness's face as he looks at the ceiling. "The Last Refuge and the Fleet is here,"  He announces to her, his voice sure but tinged with anger at the interruption. "Excuse me, I have to respond or they'll assume something bad has happened to me."

He might be annoyed with the interruption, while Lyla instead fills in with the contentness shining from her eyes. It even manages to push through the ever lingering sadness in them. The laptop on the table does a disappearing trick, after some sudden blue tinted shadows spread on the table. She slowly releases her hands only to grasp her scarf, that is around his neck. A small amused hmmh accompanies his announcement.

"You're excused," she admits softly, gesturing to his laptop which has done an appearing trick, while sitting on her knees on the table.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:34, Thu 03 Nov 2016.

"Hmph, so you're holding me hostage now.  Armed Ilmorijo will storm into my cabin looking for me, ready to take on my captor.  What will I have to do to stop this from happening?" He puts hands on his hips and folds the others across his chest, held in place by the scarf. "Normally I'm not supposed to negotiate with terrorist but I think I'll make an exception here."

"A terrorist? I see. I'd like to see them try and first find me because I have a captive that might be in mortal danger if my conditions are not met," she gives the slightest tug to the scarf, while lifting her legs and wrapping them around him to keep him put.

"I'm glad you chose so wisely to negotiate. This spares a lot of trouble from both of us, Admiral Five Days Darkness. I am a woman of simple needs and desires, but my condition is that you shall fulfill my request, anyone else won't do. Are we clear?"

Without even waiting for confirmation, she continues with a calm voice straightening up and bringing her face close to his:"One more time. Then you are free to do as you please, until next occasion. We are not done here." she can't help but to grin mischievously.

"Clear as crystal," Five Days Darkness rumbles back at her- the moment she wraps her legs around him he grasps her hips and waist, hoisting her back up into the air.  The kiss this time is just as elemental as the last, made worse when he keeps her aloft and presses her back against the wall, pinning her there for much longer.

It's probably exactly eight minutes later when he stops and lets her to the floor, "If you let me send off my email I think I can buy us another thirty minutes or so?"

If earlier she was blushing elegantly pink, now she's turned to a deep crimson shade, taken by surprise. It all leaves her breathless quite so. When the whole eight minutes has passed, she slowly slides her hands down letting go of him and gives him a somewhat speechless glance, a grin tugging her lips even further.

"I think these terrorist negotiations are going rather well. Though I have to say I'm not completely sure who in the end is the hostage."

She breathes out deeply and leans to the wall, running her fingers through her messy hair.

"please do. I'm not forcing you to stay here, am I?"

Definitely not cold anymore, she tugs her pilotsuits zipper from the neck down open, though modestly stopping only 15 cm later.

"I think that'd be me,"  he smiles at her, watching her unzip some of her pilotsuit, "No, but you're very close to forcing me to stay here.  Make yourself at home."  He gives her one last kiss and then collects himself, trying to appear calm and collected as he steps out of his quarters, leaving Lyla alone.

"I'm not forcing you to DO anything...yet"

Before he manages to leave, she takes a hold of her scarf, pulling it lightly to release it from around his neck. Her grin says it all "Forgetting something?".
She watches him go, and sighs deeply.

Make yourself at home, she thinks to herself and pushes herself off the wall. A little bit of sceptism brewing in her mind, she gathers her gloves and shoes. Incase everything would turn out differently. It had been a lousy day and this turn of events was almost too good to be true.

Leaving her extra gear under the table, she turns to look at the holo tables, absentmindedly digging out a cigarette to twirl between her fingers, still undecided if she felt like smoking.

The holo-table of the Enterprise actually shows his location (the bridge), as well as the location of several others:  herself, Lucifer, the Red Queen, Jess, Tomato.  Most seem to be in their rooms, though Tomato is in the sickbay.

A second one- right nearby- shows the fleet.  It's gotten massive the last few years, and Lyla would be hard-pressed to count all the ships that swarm the battlefield like bees around the hive.


The Last Refuge itself is surrounded by a picket of Nike-class cruisers, protecting the vast egg in a hard angry shell.  It looks like the Enterprise is moving to dock, no doubt for repairs.

Lyla gathers her hair back, and absentmindedly looks through peoples locations. She does some digging in order to find out at what state Tomato was, also incase there was any medical record of Jess' wounds, she'd pull that forward. There was worry brewing in her now that the sadness had subsided, both her solar friends had seemed so odd at the end of the battle, estranged. She'd talk with them later, when things were better.

Eventually she finds her lighter and lights the cigarette. She throws a glance at his laptop but decides to leave it at peace.

Controlling the holotable is easy.

Tomato's gotten her ribs smashed, her lungs perforated, and part of her heart pierced.  If she was a mortal she'd have died a few times already.  With best help from the doctors of Sanctuary, she'd be up and about in a month- a benefit of being Exalted.

Hmm, interesting.  Five Days Darkness was talking on the bridge, and from the looks of it, he's coming back.

According to a script taken from any romantic comedy show, this is the part where Lyla should open her zip more and lie seductively on the holotable or bed, which ever would suit better. She though does neither, instead looking around in search of an ashtray, eventually settling for the shot glass she used earlier.

She closes Tomato's records, and opens up her Benisuzumes information, checking to see what was the only dent in her ship and how easy it'd be to fix. Curiously she keeps an eye out for the door.

The Benisuzume has taken a few scratches, which are currently being investigated to make sure they're not infectious or coated with 'goddamn cheating Abyssal bullshit' or the like- a literal quote from the chief mechanic.  They expect it to be ready to fly in 2 hours, an hour to check the damage and an hour to do a fully reload and refuel.

The door slides open and Five Days Darkness lets out a long, drawn-out sigh.

"I've been called in for a court martial, but as it stands they've already accepted my resignation.  I'll be allowed to keep the Enterprise because they can't take it anyway."

Lyla lets out a sigh as well, closing the holo image of Benisuzume and turning to lean on the table.

"Court martial, what does that mean? Sorry, don't really know the standard procedure for things like these," she dumps some ash from her cigarette to the shot glass.

Despite the fact that she had expected all this, it was still hard to push aside the bitterness of it all. Though in the end it was just one of the many unlucky things within one day, maybe the tables could still be turned. Lyla waves a hand to beckon him closer.

"What's the deal with you and the Enterprise? Now that I'm interrogating you," her tone is jesting but a bit insecure when asking such questions, maybe she was just tired.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:38, Sat 05 Nov 2016.

"A court-martial's a military trial, usually for an actual crime or criminal incompetence.  It means that word has spread about what happened at the hangar, and people are worried and trust Lucifer, so it probably has to be done.  If I didn't resign there'd be an inquiry and I'm certain I'd be vindicated, but the court of public opinion is another matter.  It won't mean anything we didn't already guess."

He steps forward, standing directly in front of her.  He puts his hands on her knees.

"After Ragnarok, I received Sol Invictus's mantle.  But not everyone can handle that.  When I destroyed Luna's corrupted form, I used up a good portion of his strength.  It was worth it, otherwise I wouldn't have done it.  Afterwards when we started developing the cruisers, we found we needed a power plant and a Wyld-goblin just wasn't going to do it.  You know how Benisuzume's reactor works?" He smiles tiredly, "Just like that.  I'm the Enterprise's reactor.  I can't leave the Enterprise for longer than an hour before I start losing essence.  If I leave, the Enterprise starts losing power at a commensurate rate.  The exception, of course, is I don't need a Wyld-goblin.  I don't think I could stand having one of White Arcing Lightning's puppets hanging over my shoulder all the time."

Lyla nods in understanding to the whole court martial thing, obviously not interested asking about it in more details. It was in the end about things they discusses through. But she can't help but to chuckle at the thought of Five Days darkness having his own wyld-goblins.

"That explains a thing or two," she blushes. "Enough about these things. I think we've tormented our minds enough about all the troubles so we can focus on important things...such as what about the 30 minutes?"

She runs her fingers up his arms that are resting on her knees.

"Turns out I've bought a bit more than thirty minutes.  Still, I'd best make them count,"  He says as he moves closer to her, "If I had thirty hours, it wouldn't be enough."

His other two arms remove his robe.  He leans over, gripping Lyla by the hips and lifting her up and towards the bed, laying her down on her back, and then they lose themselves- just for a little while.  Maybe just long enough.

((New thread incoming.))