|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2026 6:35 am
He had, in truth, forgotten her more days than he hadn't.
In the time immediately following his first run-in with Ilmare - whose name he did not know - he had found his thoughts turning to her often. The hunger of unsatisfied curiosity chased those thoughts around until, in time, he had simply stopped having them. It had been weeks, now, since he had considered the lot of senshi awakened by the wrong kind of cat and found himself inexorably turning his mind towards her and wishing for information.
It was a comfort, in a way. If he did not see her, maybe it meant that she had in some way escaped. Even if it had only been to run, it was better than nothing, and maybe she had done what she'd clearly wanted to do, and run into the arms of Order.
So it was that he was not thinking of her now. He might have, easily, because he was thinking about someone else who had promised him food - he seemed to be good at extracting promises of food - and his thoughts, a month or two before, might have turned towards his lie that he was allergic to strawberries. He might have considered that she had promised him a pack of cigarettes, and that he had asked for menthols, and he might have laughed a little inwardly because he was, once again, Trying to Quit, and so he was meandering down the street without a cigarette in hand - with only a lollipop stuck in his mouth to satisfy the bodily craving. He might even have considered whether she would notice that he had changed and grown, looking less like a boy in pajamas and more like someone who could take care of himself, whether or not that was true.
He did not think of any of those things. A few moments more and he did not think of Mel and cake, either. More immediate concerns displaced mental rehearsals of what he would say to try and break her down into forgiving him, or at least looking at him with less outward contempt.
He was meandering towards an enemy energy signature, and he was doing it with forced calmness. There was no need to assume that it would turn into a fight, but he was keyed up after a series of disastrous run-ins and inwardly preparing for the worst. Just as well that he was wandering around both with that strange medallion that made his own signature seem smaller than it was, and also bathed in that ironically-saintly Earth aura that kept anyone from being able to sneak up on him. Just as well to have those precautions which did very little to make him feel much safer.
Still, it might be just as well to try and offer parley up front. The Squire, whose presence was that of a Page's, moved nonchalantly, whistling as he went, as if to broadcast that he wasn't looking for trouble. This did not seem quite enough, and so he raised his voice as soon as he thought that he might be within hearing range of whoever-it-was.
"I don't see any people around," he said. "I hope that means that you're off the clock, so to speak."
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 12, 2026 11:16 am
Ilmare was having her own little breakdown as far away from other people as she could manage. She’d powered up, because that was Expected, and she’d wandered off until she had found a lone, dying tree all squirreled away in a mostly abandoned courtyard. Then, thinking that the tree wasn’t looking so hot, she wondered about taking it somewhere to transplant. Then that thought somehow trailed into her own problems and she felt tears flow unbidden down her face. The feelings of being trapped, of hopelessness were all far too close to the surface and without thinking, she began to take out her ire on the poor, dead tree. And then that had snapped in half under the onslaught, she’d moved to a wall and pummeled it until her knuckles were raw and bleeding. And still she punched and kicked and raged over the circumstances that had gotten her to this point. But her rage had been the quiet, broken sort because she couldn’t risk noise and drawing attention. It was only the dual instances of hearing a voice nearby and actually looking down at her bloodied and bruised hands and noticing the pain that brought her slowly back to herself. Sitting rather abruptly on the ground, she stared at her hands dumbly. Then, the words spoken in the stillness registered and she managed a funny, croaky hiccup of a laugh that threatened further emotional upheaval if she wasn’t very, very careful. In fact, now that it had started, she couldn’t stop laughing and oh ********, now she was crying again. Well, maybe whoever it was would take the tears as answer enough that she wasn’t on any clock and she really wished there wasn’t a clock at all and she was so ******** tired. And the only thing that had kept her from reacting like a cornered animal had been the fact that the voice had been completely calm and belonged, she realized belatedly, to someone on the other side.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 12, 2026 4:11 pm
The lack of an answering voice was ominous, and suggested to him that he was not, in fact, encountering someone off the clock. But he was as safe as he could possibly get from ambush for another five minutes or so at least, and so he proceeded with caution - and with a big ******** rock in his hand - until the scene opened up in front of him, and he flitted through a series of emotions: pleasant surprise, a vague sick sense of dread, and then a sort of numb pity. He dropped the rock, seating himself on the nearest sittable surface that was near enough to seem friendly but not so close as to seem reckless - or like he was trying to invade her personal space. "Real ********' sorry to say," he said frankly, "that I don't have any cigarettes for you this time, and it looks like you could use one. Trying to quit." He gestured as he said it at the lollipop stick in his mouth, and after a moment he reached into subspace and held another one out towards her. "No nicotine," he added apologetically.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 13, 2026 9:52 am
Dimly aware of someone taking a seat nearby, the part of Ilmare that was able to consider such things appreciated the delicacy and tact of the action. Even if the rest of her was still slumped over and sniffling on the dirty and cracked pavement. She listened to the voice and realized that she recognized it. Lifting her head, she stared blearily at the figure before croaking out, “Earth knight, escaped. Don't know your name, sorry.” Listening to him talk reminded her that she’d actually squirrelled a pack of menthols away into her subspace for him, just in case. And here he was saying that he was trying to quit. Figured. Rubbing at her tear streaked face with the back of her hand, she only managed to smear her own blood over her eyes and cheek. “Thanks,” she muttered, taking the lollipop and staring at it blankly before turning her hands over and staring at them, having trouble understanding why they looked so awful. Well, no. She knew why, she just couldn’t figure out how she had reached that point. “Got cigs for you, but if you’re quitting, I won’t hand ‘em over.” That little speech sounded off to her own ears. Rough, scratchy, thick. And hiccupy. Oh, she’d really done a ******** number on herself, hadn’t she. Sitting awkwardly and taking turns examining her hands and the lollipop, Ilmare finally managed to make her fingers work enough to unwrap the candy. She couldn’t make herself meet the knight’s eyes. Not when she was still, far too clearly, clad in black and sporting holes in her forehead and chest. But she was startled into looking up when the part of her that could sense auras kept tapping away at her and insisting that something was different. “You changed! Stronger?” And now that she was looking at him, she couldn’t look away. And her expression was a mixture of hunger and loss and she began eyeing him as if calculating whether or not his shoulder would be a good one for crying into or not.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 13, 2026 11:44 am
He was looking, not at her, but tactfully into the middle distance at nothing. It was not an avoidance, exactly, but a careful bestowing of space. Perhaps he himself would not want to be seen this way; perhaps he was accommodating the idea that she might not either. He looked a little childish, sitting down with one arm across his knees and with the stick in hand, although it was clear from the way he moved when he pulled it away to speak - the restless, uneasy energy of it - that this was a grown man trying to substitute for a grown man's vice. And the uniform, too, backed this up - the oddly-boyish appearance traded away. "Yeah. A decade-plus on the other side and nothing to show for it. A few months on this one and here I am, marginally less useless and looking a lot less ********' stupid," he said, and he smiled, then, in the moment of turning his eyes towards her, only for the expression to falter when he saw her own. He was moved to uncharacteristic honesty. "I wasn't sure if I'd run into you until you'd changed too," he said. There was no judgment in it; no accusation. But there was, maybe, a twinge of some sort of sympathetic grief. "Still not sleeping well, I take it."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 14, 2026 1:04 pm
All it took, Ilmare would think later, after she’d had time to grow calm, was the smallest show of sympathy to completely break her down. No big, grandiose speeches or pointed looks. Just a tiny flicker that let honest and real sympathy show through. And that was all that her wearied and near-broken soul needed to renew her tears and launch her up and at the knight, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the little hollow between shoulder joint and chest. Clinging to the Earth knight like a lifeline, she gave full vent to her grief and heart-sickness, sobbing until the only noises she was capable of were tiny, hiccupping rasps. And she tried to talk, words spat out between bouts of howling pain, “All I see,” she hissed. “Are dead chibis when I try to sleep. All the ones I can’t protect and the ones I try to and I have nightmares where Laurelite is ******** eatting them alive and I can’t run yet because I’m sure that I’m being watched and I don’t want to lead them to someone who’s just trying to help because then it’s my fault if they get hurt or worse.” Her tears were beginning to soak through his shirt, she could feel the warm damp spread under her cheek. And maybe later she’d be ashamed of her display. Maybe. Instead, all she could do was hold on to the (maybe) one person out of all the people she knew who might have the tiniest of inklings of the mental hell she was trapped in.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 14, 2026 1:37 pm
He had been weighing a lot of potential outcomes, ranging from violence or being yelled at simply because he was there to some sort of hysterical laughing fit. This had not entered his mental calculus, and so he was stunned briefly into a total lack of any response besides the instinctive one of putting his arms around her. He had spent weeks crawling up the figurative walls for want of any kind of physical affection, stalled out or thwarted at every increasingly-pathetic attempt, to the point that when Elaine had sarcastically asked if he wanted a hug he'd almost burst out with a desperate "yes" despite himself. And now that he had it, he inwardly recoiled from the horror of the context of it, his stomach turning. He had the decency to keep it to himself. He reached around her shoulder after a moment to loose the rough metal pauldron on one arm for the sake of making her a more comfortable place to put her face if she needed it; he rested his chin on her hair and was silent. To shush her or make soothing sounds seemed like an insult to the torrent of feeling, and it was too close to honesty - too near the truth of his sick feeling of wishing that she would stop crying - for a habitual liar, and so he simply let her run through whatever she needed to run through. But as the words started to run out he moved slightly, pulling things from subspace - a little first aid kit, a bottle of water - and lining them up next to them, before gently prying her hands out of his clothes and starting to examine her knuckles. He did this with her hands held between their chests, willing to take the inconvenience of shadow and closeness for the sake of not chasing her away from what she clearly needed. It was a benevolent impulse - it was born of a genuine desire to try and be helpful - but it was, as much as anything, something to do with his hands. "You say you're protecting someone," he said, in a voice remarkably calm and conversational against her hair as he started washing her fingers as best as he could in handfuls of bottled water without moving her, "but I don't think your math works out, if you staying just makes you do more harm. I think you already know that, though," he added, in the same tone, without any chiding in it. "So there's not much good in me saying it. But I'll say that I ran right to someone, and it probably put her on the ******** spot for a little danger and a whole lot of ******** trouble, but the thing is - I guess - someone who really really wants you to get help - someone who genuinely wants everything to go right - probably isn't all that concerned about being in the crossfire when it happens. They'd probably be pissed at you for letting it stop you. You know?" He said this, but he knew - it was one of the only things he could recall with any clarity - that a cry for help made in the authentic language of the soul would be answered when she was ready to make it. It was not being answered now. Whatever stood between her and help - and it was, maybe, this exact tension of fear between Maybe and Definitely - had to be dismantled, and he had no idea how to do it. "I'd stand in the crossfire for you," he added calmly, fumbling around to find and open a bandage without dislodging her, "but I don't know how to bring it down on me." It was an unspoken invitation, held towards her without any expectation or pressure. And then, quietly: "My name is Maus, by the way." It wasn't the first time in his life that he'd had to give his name to someone already a mess in his arms, but he knew - even if he couldn't remember those times - that the circumstances were a little different and a lot more miserable this time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 14, 2026 3:07 pm
A tiny, surprisingly logical corner of her mind was a little surprised that there wasn’t an immediate ‘there, there’ reaction to her display. Instead, the knight simply made room and let her cry it out. And then, wonder of wonders!, began to quietly tend to her nearly ruined hands. The water actually stung the broken skin, startling her out of her well of self hatred and pity. Moving her eyes slightly to watch, she was actually surprised to see that much blood and obvious bruising. Nothing looked broken, just…badly used. Relaxing further within the knight’s bubble of non-judgement, Ilmare felt her shoulders and chest relax ever so slightly as she listened to the knight talk and felt the rumble of his words through where her face pressed into his chest. There was nothing she could say in argument to those calm, all too logical words. Except… “The kid I saved,” she croaked. She needed to say this, to get her own thoughts and reasons out into the open. “I stopped one of the officers from attacking a kid. Pulled rank and lied through my teeth. Told her that she’d set me back months in convincing the kid peacefully that we were the right choice.” Her distaste for the lie was evident, as was her complete contempt for the officer. “If I hadn’t stepped in, I’m convinced she would have ripped out his starseed. A little kid!” Her already rough voice took on an edge of hate and panic. “Kid was a champ and played along, but I have to keep him safe! If they’re watchin’ me, they’ll have someone looking for him too and if I run… “ Clearly she had a very definite idea of what the Negaverse could and would do to a child senshi that had slipped through their fingers by way of a treasonous corrupt. And now that she’d spoken the thoughts that had been haunting her, Ilmare began to shake. Her adrenal glands had run their course and now every little twinge and ache was throbbing and she felt cold all over. Even colder when the knight made his offer to stand in the crossfire for her. Now that threatened to make her tear up again, but she managed to keep her reaction limited to a few stray tears. Feeling very aware of his chin against her hair, she carefully lifted her head and looked up at him, trying to understand why he would make such an offer. And saw the wet patch on his shirt made up of blood, snot and too many tears. That just made her feel guilty and she ducked her head with a little groan. But her voice, though ragged, was steady enough when she answered, “That’s a better offer than I deserve and I can’t let you do it. I don’t want anyone to be hurt or worse because of me. But… thank you.” That last was said in a quiet voice that still managed to convey how grateful she was for his offer even if she refused to take him up on it. A weak smile flickered across her face and she looked up again, making sure to meet his gaze, “Hi Maus, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Ilmare. I wish it was better circumstances.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 14, 2026 3:37 pm
He met her eye, but only briefly before returning to his work with a lopsided smile. "It will be next time," he said. "When you've come to terms with the fact that they clearly don't have a problem going after children no matter what side you're on when they do it. And when you've come to terms with the fact that your guilty conscience isn't always rational." He said this with quiet, undemanding confidence that the next time he saw her, something would be different, even though she had rejected the offer today. "And let's be real," he added. "They're inept over there even if they're more coordinated than they are over here. You're giving them too much credit." He paused for just a moment, and then smoothed down the bandage he was working on. "And even if you weren't, surely it feels better to protect someone from an enemy than it does to protect them from a colleague." Another pause. "I'm out of band-aids," he said, and if there was a certain businesslike quality as he gently returned her hands to her, maybe that was in itself a certain type of kindness. "I got the worst of it." A small, dim little light seemed momentarily to hover near his shoulder, as if in some ineffable way watching her, and disappeared into the shadow of his hood when he moved to disentangle himself. He thoughtlessly reached out to smooth down her hair he'd ruffled as he did so, to adjust her disarrayed collar, in a series of small making-right gestures that seemed to show his awareness of how little he could, after all, make right for her. "Clarifies the mind a little to have a good cry," he added, in a benevolent attempt to convey to her that he did not judge her. There was a twinge, as he said it. He had the watery eyes and pink eyelids that made him frequently look as if he'd just recovered from a bout of tears himself, but the truth was that he had never found it easy to cry, and he was jealous of her helpless sobbing. He had often found himself jealous, of late, of those who could cry their way into some sort of relief. "When you can manage it, I mean. Maybe helps less to beat up your own knuckles, but I'd be a hypocrite if I said too much on that score."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2026 10:22 am
Watching as Maus tended to her hands, Ilmare focused on just breathing until her considerably wobbly emotions calmed down. It was, she thought, a little weird to consider the fact that a knight was seeing to her injuries when she didn’t know of anyone in the Negaverse who might do the same. Granted, she hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to make friends there…. But Maus was, at best, an acquaintance and here he was being very gentle and careful with her. It was something to consider more in depth. But later. Right now, she was startled into glancing up and giving him a deeply skeptical look at his assertion that the Negaverse was inept. Her closest instinct badly wanted to ask him if he thought the Chaos laser that Laurelite had fired off during the fight with the Hallow was the work of an inept person, but what would be the point of that? She didn’t think that he’d been there as a knight. And if he had been as an agent, he wouldn’t remember anyway. It simply wasn’t worth arguing over. “But if I can protect him just a little longer, until,” she began in a hoarse whisper before her voice trailed off. Until what, exactly? They forgot? The Negaverse rarely forgot when it came to people they had on file as connected to traitors. Until the kid got stronger? What good could strength do against a well timed ambush? Or just taking advantage of an opportune moment of weakness? Or, hell, any number of things. She couldn’t even truthfully say that he was a potential target because of her. He’d already been a target long before she’d pulled rank on that poster wielding cow and bluffed her way out of trouble. He was a target by simple expedient of being a senshi. Her involvement with him didn’t really tip the scales one way or another. Several expressions flickered across her pale face as she considered all of these things in conjunction with Maus’ words. Annoyance, resignation, realization and then a sort of tired and grim acknowledgement. Nothing Maus was saying was in any way incorrect. Except maybe for the inept part. <******** required that she verbally express this. And had she not been startled by the sudden appearance of Navi’s weird cousin, she would have. Instead, she stared at where she’d seen the thing at his shoulder before turning her attention to her neatly bandaged hands. Managing a weak smile she thanked him. “You’re a good field doc. Thank you. D’you think I broke anything?” Her hands simply Hurt and she couldn’t tell yet if the generalized pain was hiding anything unpleasant. Though judging by the swelling and bruising she could see around the bandaids, it was already unpleasant enough. She was shaken out of her thoughts when the knight briskly began putting her to rights, smoothing her hair and adjusting her collar. It was such an odd, but ultimately kind gesture that Ilmare couldn’t help smiling and rasping out a tiny chuckle. “I think I’ve just had enough cries to last me a while,” she said. “I’m not so sure it did me any good, but I think you’re probably right that it was a better option than trying to beat up a wall. And,” she continued, wanting to be completely honest and tell him that he was right about other things too, “I see your point about sticking around for the kid’s sake. I really want to argue with you about it, but I can’t. You’re right.” Exhaustion was beginning to creep up on her and Ilmare realized that she wanted nothing more at that moment than a hot shower and a big ******** blanket to burrito herself in. Eyeing Maus again, as if trying to decipher him in some way, before throwing her arms around him in another embrace. Only this time, she didn’t cling. This was more like the hug that was given to very good friends upon parting. “You’re pretty smart,” she murmured. “You know that?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2026 10:27 am
He had answered the question about broken knuckles with nothing more than a shake of his head - not that he was an expert, but it didn't seem that way to him - and was startled at the second hug, but returned it as best as he was able. "Me? Smart? You gotta get out," he said, very seriously. "It's muddling your brain."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 23, 2026 12:41 pm
Ilmare held on for a second more before tightening the embrace briefly and then letting go. Watching Maus with weary eyes, she managed an almost smile, “Shut up,” she said hoarsely, “and let me say nice things about you.” There was a sort of calmness to her now, under all the exhaustion. Something had shifted inside of her and while she was in no shape to examine it too closely right then, she could at least recognize that it was there. Lifting one battered hand to lay on his arm, she gave the knight a small, grateful squeeze before taking a step backwards. “I think,” she said, “that I need to go home and think very hard about what you said. I stand by what I said about you being right, but I still need to sort it all out for myself.” She took another step back before pausing, a thoughtful look flickering over her face. Tilting her head, she reached into subspace and grabbed the box of cigarettes that she’d stowed away. Holding them up, she shrugged, “I got these for you so I feel weird keeping them. But if you’re really tryin’ to quit, say the word and I’ll flush ‘em as soon as I get home.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 23, 2026 6:31 pm
"I quit every six weeks or so," he said with a wry smile, rising as he did so. "Keep 'em. And give them to me next time you see me, because I'll have given up by then." It was, in its quiet way, a sort of promise that he would see her again - under circumstances, of course, that were up to her. So was this, added as he went to go: "We can share them."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 25, 2026 10:33 am
Hand still have extended, Ilmare blinked at that before smiling slowly. Nodding, she shoved the little box back into subspace. "We can crack them open the next time I see you," she said, an unspoken promise that next time would be different and under far better circumstances. She felt like she should say more, but felt a bit clueless as to what at this point. She felt too wobbly inside to be able to articulate some grand and gracious speech. So, instead, she found herself settling on something much simpler as she gave Maus a little wave and turned to walk away. "See you soon, Dr Maus."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
