Makorai Saika's Story

Aconite's thoughts had been purely innocent when he had been stripping. Honest! He had just wanted to return the dress to Madison and then put his own clothes back on, but his mind didn't stay innocent for very much longer. Damion prowled over to him and within moments, the incubus had his long and elegant fingers caressing his arms and resting on his hips. He could feel the man's body heat and the puffs of his breath against his neck. It all sent goosebumps cascading down his body and his eyes widened in surprise. There would be no hiding the blush on his pale skin. It was like a bright red flowering signaling a bee in the distance and his mind went blank for a moment.

Now, Aconite didn't love Damion. Not in a romantic way anyway. He didn't mind the man and he did want to be closer. He wasn't shy by any means. He knew that nature was nature and shouldn't be suppressed but he also wasn't a very intimate being. He had other things to worry about and no one had really ever made a pass at him. All of this was a bit flustering and he just wasn't sure how he wanted to react to the overload of information and...touch. Damion had certainly never been quite this forward with him either. He was usually forward with others like Madison. Maybe this was because of the dress.. or the stripping now that he thought about it. He should have known better though he couldn't say he didn't like the attention. He just couldn't imagine himself in that position. Maybe that was the most starting for Aconite. Maybe deep down he did want a little fun but he didn't want to recognize it.

"D-Dami!" he gasped exasperated and started waving his arms as he took a moment to express his flustered state before he quite literally went 'poof'. The dryad began to shrink until he was just a little bigger than Dami's hand. His wings fluttered behind him, doing their best to imitate a hummingbird. The dryad often reverted back to his more comfortable natural form when he was feeling out of place or overwhelmed. Aconite gave an exasperated sigh and slowed his wing beats as he tried to stabilize his own heart rate. Damion was probably just teasing him anyway. ""T-thanks for t-the offer. I think you'll have to.. to um... find... someone else though. I am not ready for something like that," he explained, hoping he wouldn't offend him for declining. He didn't think he would, but still. "M-maybe we should... go see what is going on in the hall. I think I heard Kora earlier. They might need some help," he suggested to get the topic off of nightly invitations.

---

Satoru sighed at all the commotion and set down the eggs that he had been about to crack. It seemed that no one was really interested in breakfast this morning. His team leader was still eating that left over goop, Phoebe and Kora were fighting over a nasty hot pocket, Victor went to the fridge and no one else seemed to have heard him. He didn't really want to waste food if no one was going to actually eat it. He wasn't all that hungry now that he thought about it. Maybe he'd make something later when the issue with Kora in wolf form had been resolved. And of course the very 'nice' doctor had to go grumbling that none of them were doing their jobs since they were letting Kora run about. Honestly, this was her mess, not theirs. If she didn't have the sense to deal with Kora properly, she wouldn't smash through everything and cause a ruckus. No, instead, she had to go and blame them for not immediately stabilizing the werewolf.

The werecat put away all the food as Kora zoomed away towards something else. Satoru put everything else away and was actually going to walk away when he scented something in the air. He sniffed again and turned his head in the direction where Kora had raced off towards. He smelled blood and if he wasn't mistaken, that was deer blood. He followed behind Kreios. And there was their new member staring at the kill she had brought home only to have Kora rip into it. Now that was a pity. They could use deer meat to make some really good food like stew. He loved deer meat. Of course Kora had to be selfish and try and eat it all. At least Kreios seemed to be handling that situation pretty well. "Hey Dinah. Good catch you've got here," he complimented. [color=#80A50]"Need help bringing what's left cleaned out and prepared? Was there something particular you wanted to make out of this morsel?"[/color]

Evidently, it seemed that the warning hadn’t been left with enough time for it to register within Stride’s mind. While whatever insult that she had been about to let fly had been silenced, it had taken her a moment or two of pause before the gorgon cursed sharply, attempting to swing her arms away from whatever surface she had been grappling towards before. She had just managed to extend her hands out before her (as well as let out a rapid-fire of “shits) before Victor had removed the curse, although the grunt that she gave upon impact made it clear that it hadn’t done all that much to break the fall.

“Fuckin’ hell, Victor.” Grumbling her words under her breath, Stride pushed herself from the ground through use of her elbows, all the while listing the most creative terms she could come up within such a short time. She contemplated implying that he performed obscene acts upon his mother. She debated bestowing him the title of a child born out of wedlock, or that he was a sack filled with some of the more intimate regions of a woman’s body. Eventually, however, she went with the classic “ya asshole”, attempting to bring herself into a standing position as she went on.

“Tried doin’ the whole,” an aimless gesture with a gloved hand, “ya know, ‘go after ‘em only when they’re in trainin’ thing’ ya suggested there a few times, and ya know what happened? The pussy knew I’d end up beatin’ the shit outta ‘em, so he just went n’ stayed outta the hall when I tried to catch ‘em. Had to go n’ get ‘em when he wasn’t lookin’.” As if to emphasize her point, once she had fully risen, Stride gave her palms a hearty smack.

While a part of her wanted to continue to regale her fighting tales, there was still another one that wanted to add the Kora incident onto that pile, so it was with a checking of her belt (yep, gear still there, nice and tight) that she moved to leave the room. However, as the rubbery heel of her boot whined against the tile, she caught sight of a certain all-vampiric sniper.

“Speak of the devil.” Grinning, Stride proceeded to jerk a thumb towards Makorai, turned towards Victor yet again. “And see? Even the guy makin’ a livin’ in the closet thinks that was pretty much one of the gayest things that could’a come outta your mouth, there.” She took a moment to crack her neck, relishing in the pop that followed, before eyeing the mage almost skeptically. “Ya still sure you’re not hidin’ somethin’ from us, Vic? I mean, if ya ever...ya know, wanna tell us somethin’, we won’t go ‘round judgin’.” Bit by bit, her inflection took on a more “sincere” tone, to the point where one might think she was serious if they did not know her properly.

More of these comments had been about to spill forth- what dam had been put in place leaking its vitals into the open- before Makorai’s comments towards one Dr. K had reminded her of her main objective. Grinning yet again like the fiend she was, Stride gave the tranq at her gun a soft pat before swivelling to face the exitway.

“Lucky for you, Mako, I don’t got anythin’ against shootin’ chicks. Equality n’ all that shit.” Just before she left the room, she made sure to add, “And if I get this taken care of and you don’t, ya owe me a drink.” An unstated rule that she had made up right here, right now. The entire government branch of this new law- and a law that she left dangling in the air as Stride jogged through the halls, following the sounds of a scuffle more than anything.

Just as she turned the corner to the back-entrance of the SCION base, she managed to catch sight of Kreios attempting to choke WereKora out...and, as expected, getting flipped back in retaliation. Further, silent scanning of the tiling revealed a horribly marred stag, Dinah, her brother (who seemed to be fresh from his latest trip to Hot Topic), and Satoru. It was fairly simple to guess what had taken place- although instead of doing the more mature thing and immediately moving to tranquilize a werewolf who appeared to have gone feral…

Stride did the fun thing, first.

She laughed.

“Did you really just try n’ go all MMA on a fuckin’ werewolf? The fuck, dude?” In the midst of her chortling, it seemed that she had conveniently forgotten her attempt at doing the same thing- even if it was when Kora hadn’t had her maw buried in a carcass. She wiped at tears that weren’t there, snickered a bit more, and, finally, when she had her fill of the sight, lifted the tranq and aimed it at the soft belly of one of her furrier friends.

“Heads up.” Hopefully, the dart would meet its target. It was from a good, well-made, filled with enough chemicals to put a racing horse to sleep. Or potentially a few, depending on who you asked. Stride didn’t exactly had her mind set on the most accurate comparisons at the moment, really- only putting a stop to the whole “runaway wolf” crisis.

After firing off the dart, it was in an almost conversational manner that she suddenly addressed Dinah, although her eyes never left Kora with the action.

“How long did it take ya to kill that thing?” A slight nod towards the stag’s corpse. A nod, and that was all that seemed necessary for the moment.

Isaac marched quietly behind the group, this was all just a big joke to most of the people here.
The position he held had no weight authoritative wise, there wasn't much to say for cross ranks discipline, safety precautions or really any sort of organization. Sure they had one hell of an Intel-network, top notch talent when it came to field work, and hell even he had to give credit to the R&D Unit.

And here he was, just a normal human being, who had stumbled into this whole ball of wax by mistake
Watching the werewolf brawl for a moment and Stride tossing something, probably a Dart or somethin, he scanned the rest of the group.

They were bored...

"Seems like we need an outlet for all this energy." Issac's voice carried well, over some of the other conversations easily.

" After we finish here, We can do some combat practice. Something fast and hard that requires some team work." Issac said it almost as a question. " I'm thinking, Team capture the flag?" This exercise had always done well for him and his team back when he was in the army, for thunder Moon's team members, they all would have more than likely known what Isaac was suggesting actually. It was going to be a capture the flag game in a few acres of woods using Sim-u-nition, a non lethal Chalk based bullet used in S.C.I.O.N's standard field rifle. While non-leathal it still required full protective gear, and eye protection. The rounds had more than enough punch to keep everyone, even Isaac, on their toes when in the game.

He turned to Oren.
" Might do Kora some good before you prod at her again, well if you're gonna prod at her again." He said, almost as if asking permission to invite the other teams to the game. While not exactly out ranking or how ever S.C.I.O.N did their authoritative tree, Isaac viewed Oren as a leader among the Supernaturals at least.

Good or bad, at least it was an attempt to channel this ball of energy into something productive.

Even in her highest stiletto heels, Lulu Botrelle managed to pass through the garage entrance and move across SCION’s hardwood floors in complete silence. Not that such quiet grace was a surprise, really— Nothing about her file, stating “vampire; espionage agent” would indicate a heavy footfall.

Despite being returned from the exact same mission as her teammate Dami (who had entered the house the moment Montana had parked the car,) she looked nothing short of put together: Her hair was twisted into a loose up-do, with a few carefully selected blonde curls framing her face. Her dress, a black, long-sleeved number which fell just above her knees, hugged her curves enough to imply a shape well worth further inspection, but not so much that anyone could dare to call her anything less than a proper lady. The shade of rouge lining her lips was a hue too bright to be bloody, but the effect of a femme fatale could not be missed.

She moved with a quiet sway that demanded attention, and though her steps were silent, anyone around with heightened senses would note her approach.



There were not many others on base willing to invest in a perfume as fine as Chanel No. 5.



So, it was doubtful that anyone but perhaps the humans on staff were alarmed when she stepped around the corner to the kitchen just in time to catch the wrong end of a conversation. 



“After we finish here, We can do some combat practice. Something fast and hard that requires some team work.”



She skimmed over the scene of destruction and blood, resisting the urge to make a face at the stench of an animal, and raised one perfectly groomed brow. 

“You best watch your tongue, Schofield,” she said, leaning her weight against the doorframe and placing a hand on her hip, “Agent Moore is likely to make an ill-timed appearance, if you insist on ‘fast, hard’ team builders.” 



And then, with an easy smile, “Hello Valentine, Saika, everyone.”

Makorai blinked, eyes opening in unison with his double eyebrow raise. Fast...and hard. Something that require team work. "Mm." Really Isaac? The vampire thought. Those were the words you went with? This wasn't a voice of complaint it was the thoughts of appreciation. He appreciated how easy his team leader had just made his banter.

"If we're doing some fast and hard team building exercises, may I suggest we do a bit of cross department swapping?" His chocolate brown eyes moved over to Lulu's familiar frame. Fresh off of a mission her scent had told his nose. "I believe, and hello Agent, I believe we as a whole would benefit from being thrown out of our element." Makorai accompanied his words with a wide sweeping gesture, ending with a small rotation and flick of his hands.

"I'm interested in seeing how Hunter's Moon operates under this. Fast and Hard training regiment." Mock surprise crossed his face, but it was too subtle in it's use to be a truly comical face.

"Seems we have a member of Hunters moon here! Lulu, would you be willing to show me, Makorai, how fast and hard teamwork is accomplished in your department." Makorai turned his body back towards Isaac, palm on the desk, and leaned a little on his side. His shoe was toe down on the ground, and behind his forward leg.

"Being naked, sir." Solemn nod. "Might help with the trust building between departments. Our wolves often end up naked post transformation, I think..all of us being naked. Is a definite show of solidarity."

There was little wonder as to why Schofield was not in espionage— His appreciation for subtle details was nonexistent, as far as Lulu was concerned: She wasn’t sure what jacket he would have liked her to cover the bloody werewolf with, nor by what magic she was supposed to stretch something made for her tiny frame over the hulking mass that was Norrevinter. On top of that, the pissy little face that Issac had pulled at Lulu’s joke had not gone unnoticed.



All of those things being accounted for, she decided to save the sour expression she was harboring in response to his absurd request for someone who could appreciate the nuances of body language.



Thankfully, Stride swept in with a tablecloth that proved Lulu’s point better than any lowly cattiness could have. “Thank you, Ms. Stride,” she chirped, and she cast a soft, charming smile in Issac’s direction, adding, “I suppose the size difference would pose a problem, now that I come to think of it.”



As Makorai spoke from inside the doorway behind her, Lulu stepped back into the shadows and watched him, a coy mock-innocence flitting at the corners of her lips. Her weight shifted as she moved toward him and gave a girlish swing of her dress, smiling with a vulpine hunger at his proposition. 

“I don’t know, Mr. Saika,” she cooed, hips swaying as she closed the distance between them so that she could feel his slowed pulse and rest her hand against his chest. With an easy, lazy motion, she pressed one of her legs against his and entwined her foot behind him. “I’m not sure if I could demonstrate that kind of work without my teammates,” she said, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes, “But I can certainly show you a hard, fast maneuver, if that’s what you’d like?”



And then, quick as a fox, she swept her foot back and pulled his leg out from under him while shoving hard where her hand had rested against his chest so that he fell to the ground.

Then, with a teasing grin at her work and a sly tone, she said, “You can take that one with you when they transfer you to Wolf Moon for being a dog, Saika.”

"Mmmmm." Makorai's sound of approval in response to the way Lulu was moving came with a red tinted flash behind his dark eyes, and a grin then settled into a famished smirk. The familiarity between them could just as easily been Makorai's very typical response to the attentions of a women he found enticing, or it could indicate something else entirely. Either way, with his soft hand resting on his slow heartbeat, and her bare leg against his own, Makorai leaned in to her immediately.

"Well now Hunter's moon, I like a little private lesson more then group demonstration when it comes to hard and fast but if yo-"

The rest of Makorai Saika's undoubtedly perverse comment was cut short when the hand on his slow heartbeat turned into a weapon, and the leg behind him negated any hope he had of regaining his balance. Surprise, made more comical by the fact his mouth had been open, was clear on his face before he hit the ground. It was soon replaced by a wince, and an expulsion of oxygen that ended in a coughing laugh.

He looked up at Lulu, and smiled. Good humor never left his face for long.

"Woof."

" Yes ha ha, team lead had a poor choice of words. " He said, hands upturned as if the he had simply given up, he even laughed a bit.

Oren seemed to ignore him, so he let it die. Kora was layin on the sidewalk knocked out. The rest of the people... If you really wanted to call them that.. seemed content dicking around.

" Well, I'm going to take Kora to the medical wing, since it seems we wouldn't have time" He paused and looked at Makorai
with a smirk " for a quicky training session. So, all I ask is show up the meeting if you get paged to do so." He shrugged before going over to Kora. Picking her up table cloth and all, before heading off to the medical wing.

Kreios got up from the couch at the sound of the Intercom buzzing in.

"Good morning SCION. Would all field and research teams please report to Meeting Room B for a briefing in five minutes. Five minutes in Meeting Room B. Thank you!"

Well, it was something, at least. He hoped it would bring him out into the field again, he missed being able to let a little loose, really push his limits. He had been getting bored of the recent "Milk-runs" he'd been sent on. Combat was his specialty, and quite frankly, he held a lust for it. Some might have called it a bloodlust, but it wasn't the gore that drew Kreios in. It was, something far more primal.

As he approached the meeting room, he adjusted his shirt-sleeve, in a vein attempt to stretch it so it would comfortably hold his arm. He was beginning to find this a problem, and would need to have a meeting for a "New clothes" bonus. Not that it was news to the higher ups, they had this meeting once a year.

He walked in the room, sliding a few chairs over to avoid physical contact with his co-workers. Not that there aren't a few he wouldn't mind brushing up against, but this was a professional setting, no time for such thoughts. He sat down, and waited for his team-mates to arrive.

“Look, if you’re gonna bang, ya mind not doin’ it out here where everyone can see it? It’s gay as fuck.” This exceedingly “eloquent” remark was provided by a certain silvette as she looked on at the spectacle before her, arms folded lazily over her chest as she watched from her spot against the wall. The use of the term to describe what was, in reality, the farthest thing one could be from “gay” was not an unusual one by Stride- in fact, by this point, it was quite commonplace. It was debatable whether she even knew the true definition of the word, or, if she did, she kept the knowledge in the back of her head. Tucked safely away, in a place that wouldn’t be bothering her anytime soon.

It didn’t seem to matter, at any rate- Stride used it either way.

The gorgon was mulling over further commentary to the scene between the two agents when, suddenly, a Ms. Botrelle had taken it upon herself to send the current subject of her flirtations toppling to the ground. Stride was struck silent for a moment, merely staring at the the aftermath with almost as much surprise as the victim himself.

Of course, she recovered quickly enough, and was soon slumped against the wall as gave a string of hearty guffaws. No words were necessary to show her appreciation of the action- although, after a few moments of laughter, she pulled herself together to give a breathless “That was priceless.”

It was only after a few more moments that Stride straightened up, and turned towards Issac to offer her help in the transportation of an unconscious werewolf- even in human form, the woman was undeniably massive. However, by the time she had composed herself, it seemed that the man had already left, Kora in tow.

Damn. For all that could be said about the man, she mused, he could at least work fast. She supposed there was no point in following, given how swift his departure had been, and, besides- Kora still owed her money. That in mind, Stride glanced up at the speakers, listening carefully as the announcement sounded out before rolling her shoulders and bringing her eyes to the door. Stride had no real knowledge of what, exactly, the meeting would be about, but a part of her wondered if it was another warning about painting over the bathroom mirrors with various condiments.

That had been a very interesting, very specific, and very eventful meeting, to say the least.

Not wanting to leave in an entirely unceremonious way, Stride glanced over her shoulder, added, “Well, see ya guys there, if you’re done actin’ like ya haven’t fucked in weeks,” and sauntered out into the hall. She didn’t take long to reach the meeting room- having decided to use a few shortcuts she had picked up on through her years at the base- and took even less time to pick a chair and slide into it. Seeing that the room was still fairly empty, Stride used the opportunity to make herself comfortable- stretching out her legs under the table, arms slack on the polished surface.

While Lulu took pride in being a true professional in her field, it was too much to deny herself a bit of fun at Makorai’s expense, especially when he had set himself up for the act with his teasing.

Childish? Going by Kovalenko’s expression, perhaps it was.



Worth it? Based on Saika’s face, undoubtedly.



She extended a hand to pull him to his feet, and dusted the shoulder of his shirt off with a quick swipe. “You know, if you make things that easy,” she said, grin broadening with Stride’s added laughter, “You’re going to make all of Hunter’s Moon think that you like being thrown on your back. And then you’ll have no problem with anyone thinking you haven’t— Well,” she trailed off and let the implied end of her comment dangle, casting a raised brow toward the gorgon.

Her gaze followed after Schofeild for a brief moment as he carried Norrevinter away, and her lips pouted into a question, but the thought was derailed by the intercom announcement. “Joy,” she muttered, and turned toward the door after one more adjustment of Makorai’s subtly disheveled shirt. “I’m going to rendezvous with Hunter’s Moon, speaking of. You two be kind to Schofield, now. Wouldn’t want to damage his ‘good spirits.’” 

She moved out of the way with a good natured smile as Dinah rushed past, careful to dodge the rivalrous sibling exchange as she proceeded down the corridor.

Once in the hall, she found her teammate’s position within minutes and slipped behind them to a seat beside Montana, brushing her hand over Dami’s shoulder in greeting as she passed. “Strangers,” she greeted, as if she had not spent the past fifteen hours with the two. 

Her emerald green eyes scanned about the room, taking in the amassed collection of cryptids and humans alike, noting their tones and body language. For what it was worth, and for all of the issues the organization had, few could deny that there was a general air of camaraderie amongst the coworkers. Some, even, she’d venture to say behaved like family.



Lulu’s musings were interrupted as Wyndham and Kovalenko entered, and the field agent watched them both out of the corner of her eye, listening. She cast a glance toward Montana and Damien, respectively, with the statement on her face reading somewhere between, “What’s going on?” and “Get a load of that nonsense.” 



All things have cycles— The moon, civilizations, the growth and shedding of skin from a snake’s back. All things that go around will recur once more, and if they should not, it likely means that you have not waited long enough. The only question, really, is how or when the recurrence will come, and what prompting will occur to make it so.

Rebirth, as it were: A fascinating subject in the lives of men for millennia, for reasons both obvious and obscure. Phoenixes and reincarnation cycles feature regularly in Eastern historical records, and many creatures influencing the rebirth of seasons are revered as deities.

One of the most prominent symbols of rebirth across cultures, however, is the yew tree. Multiple cultures (see following doccumment for specifics regarding Greek vs Celt representation) have viewed this slow-growing tree with reverence, likely drawing the connection to rebirth from the tree's ability to spring new trunks from the original root bole. While it is possible to cut a yew down, failure to remove the full bole from the ground will only result in a later growth of the same tree.

Despite being an incredibly toxic —

The stream of written text was interrupted as by the sound of the intercom filling the library’s archival study sent a rather startled bearded dragon lizard dropping from the writer’s head and onto the page.

The creature scuttled onto its feet after a second or two of struggle, bit the pen previously inscribing the briefing text, and then crawled onto the hand holding it to nuzzle for warmth. She was promptly hissed away by a garden snake, however, who had been hiding up the writer’s coat sleeve. The hissing set a leopard gecko on the sleeve’s outer portion to jumping further up the arm, which displaced a formerly contented ball python who had been draped about the coat’s shoulder.

The python moved to coil around her perch’s neck, only to be intercepted by the hands of Doctor Silas Whitmore as he wound her coils away from his body. “None of that now, Harriet,” the historian chastised, letting her wrap herself around his other wrist, “You know that tickles.”

Harriet flicked her tongue out, but settled into her new place just as well. “Hopeless lot, all of you. Did you know?” Silas proceeded to say, adjusting a lizard clinging to the frame of his thick bottle-bottom glasses so that the animal's foot did not obstruct the view of his strigine blue eyes. He reached up and pressed down his unkempt mop of brown hair, more out of habit than hope that it would stay down, and seemed completely unfazed as yet another small reptile crawled from his sleeve and made itself a nest amongst the strands.

He then moved to lay three different bookmarks in his work, in case someone else should want to open the resources he had been prepared to cite in the briefing note, but fumbled as he stretched across the desk and knocked a globe off of its stand.

Though he did manage to catch it in a haphazard dive to the side.

Even though said dive may have cost him his balance.

Cue a crash onto the floor and a scuttling exodus of the creatures formerly existing on his person.

“Yes, yes— I know. I’m going to be late.” He pulled himself up and dusted himself off, relaxing the globe and grabbing a notepad and pen in the same motion. “If you’re so bothered by it, you ought to help” he quipped as he bounced toward the door— though the bounce was more an effort to recover from stumbling over a corner of the rug than any intentionally graceless motion.

As the Historical research head strode toward the hall (with no further mishaps, for the moment,) he pulled out his phone and shot a quick text message to another member of Harvest Moon, to be sure that Aconite was in attendance.

Conference room in five. Or five minutes ago. Not sure. -Dr. W

And then,

Also, please meet after. Need you to pull the tome on yew wood inscribing. -Dr. W

As he pushed through the door with his worn menagerie and took a seat in the back corner nearest the door (so that no late-coming reptiles would disturb anyone when they entered,) he shot out one more text message, stating,

Also, meet before meeting after. Thinking of ordering lunch. -Dr. W

Ahhh yes. Makorai had been expecting a remark from the ever eminent Stride, which, in his experience, would be heavily sprinkled in expletives and insensitive words. 'Insensitive' being a word that didn't exist in Makorai's vocabulary until he joined SCION. The vampire imagined it was quite the same for his friend as well. Asking a Werewolf if the evolutionary practice of 'doggystyle' was something that carried over when they shifted into their human form was apparently grounds for a sensitivity class.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure who had attended more, he or Stride, but they were certainly neck and neck. Most recently, it had been a quip to a human co worker of his, regarding the Vampire he had been seeing, and the dangers of 'phallic objects and closely associating them with oral activities.'

Well. That's how the report had put it. He had used several more colloquial terms to highlight his point.

"Had it been weeks?" Makorai asked himself as Lulu hauled him to his feet with a strength veiled behind her slight....supple frame. It was difficult keeping track of how long Lulu was on a job. Mostly because of the day drinking. Made things blur together sometimes. Maybe not weeks then. Possibly a week. Too long anyhow. "I'm sure the entire base knows my policy on people and backs." The sniper ran his fingertips along her hands and their familiar touch, then parted with a mock salute.

"Schofield's psychological well being is third only to drink and damsels." He responded.

Speaking of day drinking.

Makorai cracked a fresh bottle of sake, put it too his lips, and tried his best to finish as much of it as he could during his walk to the meeting room.

Mission accomplished.

One bottle of alcohol in the trash, one Makorai Saika sat one chair across from Stride, and one foot hooking the chair between them so the other could rest on its seat.

"Stride." He leaned over, his voice down to a whisper.

"You're gay."

Issac walked along at his own pace and found his way to the office where everybody was waiting.

He felt eyes on him walking in, tho not just from being one of the last to enter the room. He scanned the room for a moment but didn't find who had been eyeing him. Issac moved to a wall a few paces off from Oren and Wyndham as to over hear their conversation. He wasn't attempting to be subtle at it, but figured it was rude to just join their circle of conversation. As his ears picked out bits of conversation his eyes watched the room, with a stony expression. He gave a nod of greeting to anyone who made eye contact with him, but otherwise stood there with his armed folded neatly across his chest. He was interested in seeing what this was all about as much as anyone.

Christina nodded along with Silas’s words, occasionally opening her mouth as if to say something before closing it as he barrelled on talking. Eventually, the mage settled for nodding, listening with genuine interest to the reports. She waved back to Aconite when he appeared, and smiled knowingly as she made the connection between the dryad and the topic of yew trees. Aconite’s unique powers could come in handy with this thread of research.

“Could you?” she asked Silas when he made his offer. “I’ve been running low on new reading material lately and my own library order isn’t here yet. I know in sorcery, yew is used a lot in rituals for transformation. Especially on the tides of the seasons. And funeral rites as well.”

Nothing she said was anything new, likely Silas had found it all already in his own. But it would prompt the conversation along, which was the goal, in the end.


Dami spared no time in snatching one of Madison’s hands into his own, playing with the fingers as he chirped a bright “Hello~” to the vampire as if they hadn’t just spoken not that long ago. His eyes becoming honey brown, Dami stared soulfully at his friend, then sent another cutting glance towards Oren arguing with their superior. The raised eyebrow conveyed his confusion rather clearly, since the incubus had no idea why that researcher would be mad about a paid vacation, of all things, and then shared another significant look with his teammates.

“Sooo, Madison~” he finally voiced, lowering his lashes until his eyes were half lidded, and peeping up through them in a fetching manner. “Did anything manage to change in the short time we suffered apart?”