sweetcandygirl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sweetcandygirl) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_sages2017-06-19 10:08 pm
sweetcandygirl) wrote in nexus_sages2017-06-19 10:08 pm
Entry tags:
+1 gun fight
A new door opens in the Nexus, signalled by the fact that there is a serious gun-fight on the other end. A young blonde, wearing skin-tight clothes and sporting colorful ponytails, rolls through the door. She fires some shots back into the scene that she just left as cover fire, before slamming the door closed for a brief moment to catch her breath.
It takes her a moment to realize that she doesn't hear the gun fire anymore.
And then she stands, alerted to the fact that she is somewhere new. Somewhere with millions of sights... and sounds... Her eyes get big. And wide.
She puts her gun into a holster at her hips, as she spins around to take in everything all at once. And laughs, as she spins faster and faster, until she gets a little dizzy and has to sit down.
When a random couch shows up right in front of her, it causes another laugh as the girl plops down on the cushy cushions. "I am dreaming... someone pinch me."
It takes her a moment to realize that she doesn't hear the gun fire anymore.
And then she stands, alerted to the fact that she is somewhere new. Somewhere with millions of sights... and sounds... Her eyes get big. And wide.
She puts her gun into a holster at her hips, as she spins around to take in everything all at once. And laughs, as she spins faster and faster, until she gets a little dizzy and has to sit down.
When a random couch shows up right in front of her, it causes another laugh as the girl plops down on the cushy cushions. "I am dreaming... someone pinch me."
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Harley shrugs her shoulders. "I used to hang out with a criminal mastermind. His words."
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"Ah. So the act itself is not so terrible, but taken with the rest it becomes the icing on the sweetroll." The lizard nods slightly to himself, satisfied with his understanding. "A criminal mastermind? May I ask why you chose that association?"
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"I understand that to be its usual effect. I imagine you did not have the good fortune to be jailed together?"
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"I got caught. And then recruited to my team... we are all in the same situation. So they know how to pull at our strings."
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"There was a falling out? My sympathies."
He considers her second statement, and can only ask, "they?"
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"My team is sort of controlled by a government organization. They tells us what to do. What missions to take. And send us into the fray... hoping we don't come back."
"We are called the Suicide Squad because of that fact."
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He dips his head in acknowledgment, accepting she knows her mind and that it would be impolite to pry.
As for her team, "that sounds... needlessly wasteful. If your own government would disregard your life so, then I begin to understand your eagerness to depart."
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"But they are good people. Just good... bad people."
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He tsks softly, shaking his head at the folly. "I am a strong believer in the chance of redemption. I, too, was once imprisoned for my faults."
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"What did you do?" Harley tilts her head, interested.
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"I mixed a potion for someone," he answers, then goes on to explain, "at the time of my arrest, I didn't understand what was happening. I thought perhaps I had the mischance to catch the eye of a few guards with a grudge against Argonians. Rather than beat me in an alleyway and leave me, they took me to the imperial prison and placed me in a cell indefinitely. I was not told why, and have only inferred probabilities as I learned more of surrounding circumstances."
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"Is that what you call yourself? An Argonian?"
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"That was my conclusion, as well. A woman came to me, asking for a potent sleeping potion for her husband. She wove a tale of a man cursed with insomnia, and I was young and foolish enough not to question. I mixed her a draught that would put anyone to sleep, deeply and for hours. It was my finest early achievement." He chuckles, shaking his head ruefully. "She took the potion and went away, and three days later I was arrested as I described."
"I am a Saxhleel, but in the Imperial tongue we are called Argonians, yes."
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"Saxhleel..." She repeats, as carefully as she can.
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"Indeed," he agrees, "a disappointment, but an instructive one."
He nods appreciatively at her recitation. "That is very good pronunciation."
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"'Psychiatrist?'" he echoes, his own pronunciation similarly careful and precise. "I regret to say I do not know the word. What does it mean?"
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"A healer of the mind? Intriguing."
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"And now... here I am..."
She blinks once. "Oh! By the way. I'm Harley."
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"My sympathies; it is ever the peril of approaching evil, to become scarred by it. I hope you have been able to heal yourself in the time since?"
Her introduction is met with a smile, and an extended hand. "I am pleased to meet you, Harley. I am called Shade-Seeker." His scales are warm, and smooth as pearls.
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She takes his offered hand. A little marveled at hos smooth his scales are. "Shade-Seeker. Is that like a codename?"
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"The hatchling goes not back into the shell, nor the fledged bird back into the nest. It is well if you have found peace with yourself."
He looks puzzled at the question. "Code... name? I am not certain what that means. It is the way of my people to bestow or take names which describe the person named. With my odd coloration, I am less comfortable in the sun; thus, I seek the shade, yes?"
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"That is a pretty close way of explaining it. A name you call yourself, based on your abilities or other traits that describe that person."
"Every one of my team members has a codename. Except me."
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