[ The briny taste of seawater is not far from her even within the confines of this strange station. Mako is lost, having only just discovered that she's a bearer of a shard of a sacred gemstone that lived within her, and had been growing there since before she'd been born. Imps and fairies, the little creatures that chimed in and spoke of another war, and how she's been summoned to the hall of a king and queen she barely knows; and no less loyalty towards.
(The enemy has not wronged her; does she still pick up her sword? Does she go to war?
— Why?)
On the heels of a pyrrhic victory Mako feels little else but a curious sort of numbness; but she makes note of all the questions she wants to ask. Imps and fairies, up until an hour ago she never knew of their existence.
Now, however, she's acutely aware of the fact that she's lost something important, something precious to her — and the loss rings hollow, a blunted sort of pain she equates with grief.
Mako celebrates and grieves with equal measure, lately.
She is guest and not captive (an assumption that can be corrected later), and it doesn't take long before she's investigating her surroundings, wary, curious, and disoriented because a heartbeat ago she had been with Raleigh in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but the white noise of waves, Tendo's voice in her ear, and the sound of Raleigh's breathing that she marks with care, the warmth of his fingers when they are slotted with hers, filling the spaces between them.
He's alive, but now he's lost. The acute, excruciating awareness of Raleigh's absence is carved into her mind; a unique constancy felt in the turn of a thought, accompanied by the gnawing ache of distance.
— Where?
She's still locked in her drivesuit, and while the material is not uncomfortable, it would suit her better to be out of it. (Unfortunately, jaeger pilot technicians are in very, very short supply right now.)
Mako steps out into the corridor, carefully shutting the door to her strange new room behind her before she accidentally bumps into someone. ]
Excuse me.
LOCKET
[ The image of a young woman comes onscreen, hair-tips a bright, unmistakable blue.
Mako's bearing is stiff — implication: military. The black drivesuit she wears is emblazoned with an unfamiliar sigil on either side It takes a moment for her to adjust the screen. There are many questions on her mind, each one more difficult than the last. There is a subtle edge of frustration that simmers just under her skin, masked by an inscrutable neutrality that had taken years to nurture.
Even then, it's paper thin; and in the next few seconds, the smallest furrow of her brows, the faint purse of her lips betrays a mix of deeper emotions: confusion, curiosity, frustration. ]
It seems I have stepped into a land meant for fairytales. [ She half-expects to see kaiju dragons on the horizon. At least that would be a more familiar (if unwelcome) sight. ] Or perhaps this is where they come to die. [ Poetic? Not really. ] This war between the Seelie and the Unseelie, how long has it raged on?
[ More importantly: ] And why?
[ She's fiddling with the locket again after a few moments, and a series of soft beeps is heard — it's clear she expects this to be a separate channel; her mistake. ]
LOCCENT, this is Ranger Mako Mori, 20419V reporting. Do you read me? LOCCENT, do you copy?
MAKO MORI
[ The briny taste of seawater is not far from her even within the confines of this strange station. Mako is lost, having only just discovered that she's a bearer of a shard of a sacred gemstone that lived within her, and had been growing there since before she'd been born. Imps and fairies, the little creatures that chimed in and spoke of another war, and how she's been summoned to the hall of a king and queen she barely knows; and no less loyalty towards.
(The enemy has not wronged her; does she still pick up her sword? Does she go to war?
— Why?)
On the heels of a pyrrhic victory Mako feels little else but a curious sort of numbness; but she makes note of all the questions she wants to ask. Imps and fairies, up until an hour ago she never knew of their existence.
Now, however, she's acutely aware of the fact that she's lost something important, something precious to her — and the loss rings hollow, a blunted sort of pain she equates with grief.
Mako celebrates and grieves with equal measure, lately.
She is guest and not captive (an assumption that can be corrected later), and it doesn't take long before she's investigating her surroundings, wary, curious, and disoriented because a heartbeat ago she had been with Raleigh in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but the white noise of waves, Tendo's voice in her ear, and the sound of Raleigh's breathing that she marks with care, the warmth of his fingers when they are slotted with hers, filling the spaces between them.
He's alive, but now he's lost. The acute, excruciating awareness of Raleigh's absence is carved into her mind; a unique constancy felt in the turn of a thought, accompanied by the gnawing ache of distance.
— Where?
She's still locked in her drivesuit, and while the material is not uncomfortable, it would suit her better to be out of it. (Unfortunately, jaeger pilot technicians are in very, very short supply right now.)
Mako steps out into the corridor, carefully shutting the door to her strange new room behind her before she accidentally bumps into someone. ]
Excuse me.
LOCKET
[ The image of a young woman comes onscreen, hair-tips a bright, unmistakable blue.
Mako's bearing is stiff — implication: military. The black drivesuit she wears is emblazoned with an unfamiliar sigil on either side It takes a moment for her to adjust the screen. There are many questions on her mind, each one more difficult than the last. There is a subtle edge of frustration that simmers just under her skin, masked by an inscrutable neutrality that had taken years to nurture.
Even then, it's paper thin; and in the next few seconds, the smallest furrow of her brows, the faint purse of her lips betrays a mix of deeper emotions: confusion, curiosity, frustration. ]
It seems I have stepped into a land meant for fairytales. [ She half-expects to see
kaijudragons on the horizon. At least that would be a more familiar (if unwelcome) sight. ] Or perhaps this is where they come to die. [ Poetic? Not really. ] This war between the Seelie and the Unseelie, how long has it raged on?[ More importantly: ] And why?
[ She's fiddling with the locket again after a few moments, and a series of soft beeps is heard — it's clear she expects this to be a separate channel; her mistake. ]
LOCCENT, this is Ranger Mako Mori, 20419V reporting. Do you read me? LOCCENT, do you copy?