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Point of No Return [Crew of The Loveless]

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Marakai2.0:
It really was a wonder, the things life seemed capable of throwing in one's direction. The last several days had been full of ups and downs, and a couple of twists and turns, and it was to the point that Vargas had little hope of predicting what was around the next corner of this topsy-turvey little adventure he'd joined in on.

It had started with that job with Kirkley, maybe a couple of weeks or so ago, one that had seemed random and out of the blue - the many drinks Vargas had consumed since then made the memory very blurry and unfocused, but the gunner did remember one thing: that paycheck had quite a bit of zeroes on it.

And he'd risked all those zeroes almost in a single sitting, one that had turned massively in his favor into the greatest kind of payout he could have hoped for - a simple poker game with a group of individuals who were, surprisingly, more drunk than him at the time had won him the entire pot, almost doubling his money and winning him the most unexpected of prizes.

He'd won a goddamn gunship. Couldn't fly the damn thing, yet, but that was soon to change, it seemed.

And since then, again out of the blue, he'd been invited to join this motley crew - permanently. He'd jumped at the chance, packed his things, and dove right in.

And then things got weird. They'd gained a stowaway, who had apparently smuggled herself onboard when Hesperus and himself were picked up, and she'd decided to make herself known at what couldn't have possibly have been a worse time. As pretty as she was, she was an odd one. Interesting, and very pleasant to look at, but odd.

But that was then. And here they were now.

Vargas stared up at this 'Shen' who, unless the gunner had been well and truly pickled and couldn't even remember  (which was impossible, he hasn't had a drink since early the last morning, dammit), had shortly before been a large bird creature hellbent on their destruction amongst the asteroids. He understood why and how the personality change had come about, sort of - some giant black leechgrubworm things he'd happily blasted into oblivion - but still.

This guy was a man. Um. Kinda. The bubblewand in place of Shen's head still threw him off, especially once he'd noticed it never seemed to face a different direction no matter what angle Vargas looked at it from. But the fact that really confused him was the fact that, only minutes before, he had clearly been a bird. Thing.

Fuck me. I need a drink. That was the prime thought amongst all others as he brought birdnotbird Shen a cup of coffee, since Kirkley had said it had been quite some time since he'd had it. Even more so once Shen simply tucked the cup within his coat and seemed to....stretch...sli ghtly, before he produced the cup again, sans coffee.

Aesir took the words right out of his mouth, on that one.

Otto posed another good question, which Vargas decided to follow with another. "Besides what to expect, where is it that we're going? I mean...transport? How does that work?" Vargas generally wasn't the one to ask questions - he was literally there to just man the guns, as it seemed there were more than enough men present to pilot the ship - but the entire thought of finding a place worth called a 'vacation spot' in an asteroid belt was only...slightly confusing.

Blink:
It was all just more evidence of how 'lucky' Dez actually was. First, she thought she had scored so big when crawling into that crate. She had thought she read the label correctly and could've sworn it was destined to be heading somewhere far far away on a ship that was in fact, not this one. Luck only continued to roll in like a set of snake eyes as the ship she had managed to wind up on was staffed with passengers who were less than pleased with her status.

'Stowaway, intruder... annoyance.'

Dez had been called worse things in life by far worse people. Regardless of how they thought, she had gotten on the ship Dez knew all of this was just another scene passing by. Time and time again she had landed in situations similar to this one (minus the being attacked by a headless chicken). Dez would appear and be shunned, therefore making her resort to whatever it took to make her life just slightly less 'unlucky'. Looking out for number one had always been what kept her alive and this situation was no exception.

As everyone filed in Dez took mental note of each face. The man who had given her the puzzle in the very beginning. He seemed nice then, must've eaten something green based on the sourpuss look on his face now. Sourpuss.... yes. The other small one, the one who danced with her in the hangar and copped a feel to grab her Com, Chickenman. There was, of course, the one who made funny noises at her. His eyes were odd and based on the number of lovely candies she found in his ship Dez just assumed that one just had no brain left... she liked him, Candyman.

With hands in pockets, Dez squinted at the one with horns. He deserved a very special name, one worthy of someone who locks people in tiny compartments with nothing but a half-eaten bag of cheese poofs to survive on for eternity. Horny Spider, Seemed fitting in more ways than one. Next would have to be the young one. Dez squinted again as she wracked her brain for a name befitting such an odd duck, Skip. 

Her blackjack nemesis also deserved a special name, one that probably came the easiest of them all, BlackJack. This brought Dez full circle to the one she could tell hated her the most. His name would have to be the most special of them all. One befitting of someone who clearly hated everything about her. He seemed to have a knack for instructing the others to lock her up or detain her in some way. Clearly he was Warden Kittypants.

With names sorted out Dez was able to finally pay attention to what they were all going on about. Something about Mr. Hoophead and his jacket? Wait... Vacation? Dez emerged from the land of giants and waved her hand to get attention.

"I pose the same questions as Candyman and Chickenman. Also at what point am I being thrown out the air vents, Warden Kittypants? "

Her tone was calm and almost monotone as if being thrown off a ship into oblivion was a walk in the park.

Lion:
Nero very rarely planned ahead - or worried about expectations. Going with the flow tended to suit him best in his experience. There were no guarantees, no surefire expectations that he was going to wake up the next morning or live through the rest of the week. Heh - 'live' was surely a fine way of putting it. This was the most static he'd been in well - he honestly couldn't really remember. Time tended to bleed in on itself that way, like segments of watercolor had droplets of water dabbed over them.

Nero closed his eyes, trying to focus, the picture not at all becoming clearer. And all he could feel were the flashbacks of emotion, the white-hot in his veins of fear and adrenaline shooting through him like the most raw high he'd ever felt. But it wasn't quite like being lightyears away, in fact he couldn't have been more alert, and every sound became a blaring wail. Vargas firing off that gun, Otto directing orders through the comm, the feeling of being hollowed out at the thought that Kirkley was really dead.

He knew he couldn't die. Not really. And neither could Nero. He'd go on, and Kirkley would go on - even if the latter had give or take a few ten thousand years ahead of him. 40 years older than where he should have been, four decades out of a nameless hole he probably would have been buried in. At least, it would have been a decent finale. He wouldn't be sad about it, no songs need be sung, no epitaphs, no eulogies. Only good men got those. Only good men died young.

And that was a ferry for which he had no credits to pay the fare.

But that knowledge, did nothing to stop the coldness that clenched at his gut. Because it didn't matter if he died - but he'd be damned if he was going to sit by and do nothing whilst the captain was out there. Not while he could do something. It didn't even skip a beat, that thought process, not a second of hesitation. Never had a decision been clearer than to suit up, to venture into that cold vacant black, to cradle Kirkley's fat head in the crook of his arm from giant birdfish that had suffered awful parasitic lacerations. He wasn't going to lose his package (regardless if that job had been over and done with), he was going to bring him back, he wasn't going to have another Kincaid...

The hollowed out feeling came back with a vengeance. He failed that job. The one job he'd said he'd never fail. Nero ducked his head and felt horrifically sober the last few days. Lay low, don't make ripples, he was good at that. Make sure the rest of the cargo on board - ie, the crew - was fine. Wolf had needed someone, even if he'd said nothing, even if the little electronics he'd asked about afterward were filler to make sure the little guy was right enough to be alone. Nero couldn't be sure, far be it from him to understand the nuances of giving distance.

But in that time, he hadn't even touched his newly acquired stash, the adrenaline still present, still sobering him, and the hollowed feeling making his veins itch, and he unconsciously favored a fang at the corner of his mouth. It didn't even matter that Kirkley was alive and well now. Was it something else? Nero never stared at death in the face so closely and flinched, no, the lows usually came afterward when he was stitching himself back together. 

Nero had made his way to deck when the rest of the crew had gathered, observing Bubblewand Man hug Hesperus with no shortage of affection. The hollowed out sensation made his chest burn, and he wished he'd at least brought a joint with him.  No, no. This was important. Pay attention. Nero reached up and shrugged his green jacket tighter around him, popping the collar and bringing his loose mauve hair up into a bun.

Best to have one less distraction in his face, eyes flicking to the others in the room. They were here, they were safe. So far anyway. Unexpectedly expected. He held his tongue, grin only curling much in the same fashion Otto's had when his eyes flicked to the blackhaired bugboy in the flight chair at Aesir's endless talent for observation. It was a good smile, and he deserved to smile more. The center of his left palm flared up in an itch, and he favored his fangs again, letting the prickling point force him to observe everyone else.

Wolf, however, still seemed tense, and Nero couldn't blame him. Poor guy. Vargas and Dez, seemed well enough to take it in stride. They didn't have any welling itchiness, or so he hoped. Placated calm, he told himself, and poised himself to the rear of the room, far enough away from Hesperus to keep the man from flat out collapsing in the midst of a debriefing. In the back was where he felt most comfortable anyway, a thought that only briefly abated the tingling he felt in his palm, and he kept his left hand curled, arms crossed over his chest.

Whatever it was, it was going to be interesting.

Cheesigator:
As Shen had spoken, Kirkley's eyes roamed over his crew, looking at each face individually and assessing their current state.

It wasn't good.

Not a single person in that room, save for the stowaway girl who he did not consider to be part of their crew, looked like they'd slept enough. Like they were awake enough. Like they were ready. For fuck's sake he was pretty sure at least one or two of them might be either drunk, in need of getting drunk, or potentially high. It made his heart clench and his gut twist with guilt.

Just several days ago they'd all been laughs, chipper fun and good times. Playing board games, snuggling, taking naps, enjoying the sense of family that many of them hadn't gotten to experience for a very long time. And within the space of a few hours he'd managed to take that all away.

Questions were asked and after a moment of silence, Shen glanced over to see his father looking nowhere in particular, glazed over and not really there. Even with Hesperus's arms around him, which Shen quite loved because it made his heart skip a few beats and bump a little faster in his chest, a bit of coldness settled in him because he knew where they were going. And he knew perfectly well why his father was distraught. Kirkley had told him during their visit outside how much this crew already meant to him, how much he loved every single one of them and Shen could see so plainly he was the happiest he'd been in a really, really long time. It made him feel worse knowing he'd scared them so, put them in danger, even though he knew he couldn't help it.

Shen tapped the pads of each index finger together nervously, waiting a moment or two, and when Kirkley didn't respond, he slid an arm out from Hes's grasp to touch his shoulder and communicate just with him.

"Dad, they asked their questions."

Kirkley jerked a little, and the motion of it made Shen flinch back in surprise, quickly looking back to the rest of those assembled in the room and resuming communication with them with his telepathy.

"Um. Yes I--mouth is in here," He tapped at his chest, his anxiety spiking as Kirkley rubbed his face tiredly, for a brief moment looking as old as he really was. Well. Almost.

"We go a place dad does not like but is safe. You go. I stay. You go through here," Shen pointed to the ring and flames of his head, "This is transport."

"This is why I didn't want to talk about it until now, at least not on open chat servers. Shen is capable of creating portals to other dimensions, among other things," Kirkley suddenly spoke up, his voice nothing short of tense. It made Shen's shoulders hunch up a bit. "If we go through the ring we'll get teleported wherever he sends us; he's the safest way of travel without being followed."

With every word whatever cheerful attitude he'd had earlier wore away and it became clearer and clearer that Kirkley wasn't pleased with where they were going; something was weighing heavy on his mind, the memory of a very specific grave and a pang of emotion made his voice warble briefly.

"We're going to The Meeting Place."

He said it with such finality, such a heavy note, looking at his crew with an obvious wall put up between them and his emotions, because he had way too many and he couldn't let a single one escape or he'd crumble to pieces, and that was unacceptable--particularly in front of Aesir. Of all the people in this room, this journey was specifically for him, and for a brief moment Kirkley's gaze landed on him again, not having laughed at his earlier question, and absolutely terrified that something might happen to the boy that could never be undone... But what other choices did he have?

"Meeting Place is ancient," Shen quickly chimed in, the state of his father making him a bit nervous, it was sometimes so hard to tell how the old man would react to things. "Is last hope, protect by two guardians, only one still alive today," He hesitated a moment, gloved hands clenching into fists, his body making the slightest movement in Kirkley's direction to which the ancient shifter's jaw just set more firmly as he ground his teeth and said nothing.

"The other still stay there... Is safe place for all to meet. No weapons. No bad intent. Please... Do not harm the plants or animals there. They are last left. Please respect it. Please."

"There shouldn't be anyone there, it's usually pretty vacant," Kirkley looked away as he spoke, his shoulders tense as he put his hands into the pockets of his void suit which he'd neglected to take off earlier. "Just plants, wildlife--what little is left, anyways. What Shen said is true--no weapons, and for fuck's sake no trash," He glared at the stowaway girl, "Respect it if at the very least for the one person who has never left it."

He had to stop himself short at that before any more anger seeped into his voice; fucking anger, regret, because he couldn't protect Bifrost or keep him safe from death, couldn't find him again soon enough, that he'd had to die at all and it was such a spiraling whirlwind of emotions he could barely hold back with all the stress weighing down on him. Remnants of Otto getting so upset with him about not giving Aesir the chance to get out for some fresh air passed briefly through his mind; for keeping him sheltered, for making his crew ever angry or upset with him, for almost losing his son, for arguing with Hes, it was all piling up and gods fuck it all he hadn't been with a crew in so long he'd forgotten how to keep these things under lock and key.

"We will exit the Loveless and go through Shen's portal on foot, protected by the atmosphere he provides for us--and when we're ready we will exit through the same portal we came in. Not a single soul is allowed to stay behind. Stick with the group and don't go wandering off, because there is no guarantee that dangerous things don't still live there. Is that clear?" He rumbled, looking over everyone very carefully to gauge their reactions.

Draconian:
Ha. He knew it.

Aesir was pleased with his fantastic skills of observation when Shen confirmed that was indeed where his mouth was.  The air grew heavy though and Aesir's purple eyes were stuck on the big man beside the firey hoop guy. The rest of the room turned grey and fuzzy and he just... Watched Kirkley. Frowning ever so slightly while he listened to the pair speak. Transportation was the headhoop? Yeah okay. That wasn't weird.

Then again. Aesir listened but slowly looked down at his hands. The scars over his finger tips that never stayed long but... He made new ones. He thought to the plants in his room and how just a few drops of blood when he watered them kept them... Beautiful. A sigh and he tried to imagine this 'Meeting Place' - boring name.

Two guardians. One was there. One was... Somewhere else? Aesir was mostly trying to imagine it still, his eyes sort of glazed because... Sure, Margad had green stuff but it never felt quite right there. Just like Space doesn't feel right. Aesir pressed his fingertips together, realizing he was still staring at them. The Meeting Place. He'd never heard of it before. Right?

The words felt familiar though. Maybe he dreamed of it? A slow breath in. Slow exhale. He moved his hands to his hair to draw his fingers through it, looking through the crew at Kirkley who seemed so tense and withdrawn. He opened his mouth. Wanting to say something - anything - to lighten the mood. Instead, he just backed up as far as he could go while remaining in the room, stopping only when he felt a cold wall through his shirt against his back.

Why did this make his heart beat so fast? He'd never heard of this place before but... He needed to be there. Aesir needed to go there. He also needed to calm down first. So, he let himself slide down the wall until his butt was on the floor and he was taking deep calming breaths. Odd reaction to seeing some actual real green stuff that may or may not be infested by monsters. Did he want to go? He wanted to go.  There was something important there. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew it.

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