Snippet #1524010

"No." The word was the first one out of Leander's mouth as soon as she saw the miniature herd of horses that awaited them outside. She hung back, expressionless save for the edged wariness in her eyes, as she watched the others move about as though they were not dealing with beasts that could at any moment decide that running uncontrollably away was the best idea around, dislodging you and trampling your best friend badly enough that she'd end up losing the use of her right leg forever. This wasn't the idle fall-shy of a teenage girl who just never got over a little pain; this was a healthy respect for the fact that horses could do a lot of damage, whether they intended to or not.

It seemed she was either unheard or ignored, though, because their instructions were clear. Just when did she lose any semblance of choice in this matter, anyway? Her freedom was something she'd been jealously guarding, holding close to her chest like her only pair of aces, since she'd given up everything else she'd ever had and run away to Australia. Former prison colony, current refuge to one once-rich girl who just wanted to be left the hell alone. And really, that was all she'd ever asked for. A decent check to pay the rent and to not be bothered by other people and their problems, because frankly she had enough of her own, thank you very much.

A small part of her knew that she could never be entirely like this, but she either quashed it with stubborn force of will or drowned it in so much alcohol it didn't know anything anymore. She burned a bit more of it away with every cigarette, every flame bummed from some guy at the bar or on the corner of the street or at the bus stop, because dammit, some cities still knew the joy of public transportation. She killed a little more of her kindness every day, and she couldn't wait until it was ashes in the wind. To be the affectation, to become the mask, held such an inescapable allure for Leander that she could scarcely comprehend the reasons anymore, and it didn't matter, because the reasons were dying too, the old and useless appendages of a caterpillar that needed plodding legs no longer, not when it would soon have wings of glorious apathy to carry it away from what once was.

And now she was waxing fucking poetic. Great. She turned herself back to the immediate present and watched the others. Shades was amusing in his immediate mad dash for the slickest-looking pony in the place, and she would have laughed if she hadn't felt so sick at the thought of him, too, losing an arm or a leg or something. Stupid caring. This was why she didn't socialize much; it made her give a shit, something that she was against on principle. Blondie was all gentle hands and slow gestures. He'd been around horses before. For a moment, she wondered if there was a bitter bone in that guy's body. He sure didn't act like it- mild as a baby bunny rabbit, and not the feral hare either. The honest-to-God, floppy-eared, soulful-eyed, little-girl's-pet rabbit. The Professor appeared to have found his friend from the previous night, and it was all so much like a fucking Disney movie that Leander wanted to gag. Well, no, that was probably still just the caring talking.

She was mildly relieved (and more than a little weirded-out) when the group was approached by some weird three-legged bird-thing. It looked so absurd that if she hadn't been so preoccupied being sardonic, she might have laughed. It moved along at a decent clip, she guessed, but it was seriously strange. She was almost looking forward to seeing the equivalent of a deer or a sheep, if that was supposed to be an emu (which was honestly the closest thing she could think of, plus the extra leg and eyes and well... a lot of other things actually).

At this point, she knew she was only stalling, and everyone else had selected some form of animal, which left her exactly one option. It was a leggy creature (then again, what horse wasn't?), and she did not have to exaggerate to admit that it was beautiful, a deep dark-chocolate hue broken only by the snow-white patch squarely between its eyes. Were she still a little girl or even a young teenager, she would have gushed at the sight of it. Of course, it was also easy to tell why the others had avoided it. The mare was unmistakably a mean-spirited creature, judging from the way she stood with her ears planted flat-back against her skull. Leander didn't want to approach it, but she knew she had little choice now. So she swung an unnecessarily-wide arc around the smooth, silken side, and took hold of the reins, grasping closely enough to the beast's chin as to be in total control of the situation. Her handling was not rough; quite the contrary, but it was clear that she wasn't taking any chances. That was going to be a battle later, and it wasn't one she wanted to fight in the slightest.

But everyone was moving onto the armory now, which Lee thought was a little stupid. Seriously, how many of them knew anything about bloody swords and shit? By this point, she was over the initial 'keep your head down' phase of unfamiliarity with the situation. As soon as sleeping had not brought her back to reality, she'd gotten cranky, and heaven help the first person who got on her bad side this morning. But of course Captain Grumpy was there, and she had the distinct feeling that it was going to happen soon. Sure enough, he gave everyone a little speech and a deadline, and Leander had decided that this was just about enough of being told what to do for one lifetime. Who were these people to claim to be able to send her on some ridiculous mission to 'the East'? She understood the need to keep away from the people who had tried to kill them last night; she wasn't an idiot. What she did not like was that they were being told nothing about anything else.

"Any questions?" Leander fixed the too-tall figure with her patented 'you've got to be kidding me' look, but he did not flinch. not that she had expected he would. Shaking her head, she walked first to something that had caught her eye earlier: a pair of gauntlets. Leather in construction, but with considerable steel reinforcement, they were actually mismatched. The left one had more metal, especially along the length of the forearm to the elbow, and even the fingers were in delicately-worked, but clearly sturdy steel joints. The plating looked to be capable of turning a blade if applied correctly, which was a definite plus if last night was anything to go by. The right was mostly leather, still guarded around the forearm, but only studded at the knuckles instead of jointed with steel. Offense, defense, flexibility. She rather liked the idea and slid both on, finding that they would add weight to a swing without impeding movement much. Once she got used to them, they probably wouldn't at all.

Moving back over to the center table, she grabbed a longish, curved knife for utility and mostly show (since gauntlets wouldn't come off as weapons) and one of the survival kits, which she knotted nicely to her leather belt. Still more than a little wary of the entire situation, she signed a name that was only partially hers: Leander Hastings. Hell, for all she knew, she could be signing something magically-binding or some nonsense, and she didn't trust these people enough for that, plain and simple. She'd remember the alias anyway, just in case it was for identification only. It wasn't like anyone here knew her real name anyway.

"Actually, I've got a question," she told the Captain flatly. "Why are you even doing this? We clearly aren't your citizens, so you're not obligated. I can't imagine you actually give a damn what happens to us, so that means you're using us for something. What?" She wasn't expecting much of an answer to her challenge, but even if he didn't say anything, that would tell her more than she knew already. She just wanted to see what he'd do. Blow up at her? maybe; he seemed pretty volatile. Ignore her? With the pattern so far, that was more than likely to happen. Hell, there was even a chance that she'd get a meaningful reply, though she wasn't holding her breath. "We're human beings, not herd animals. You don't just get to order us around and expect us to behave like you own us." Though her tone never modulated from her bored cadence, the look in her eye made it clear that she wasn't just going to let it go like a good little girl anymore.