Glein
Vaigarin Elder
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2021
- Messages
- 45
- Reaction score
- 15
MEDUSA SUBSECTOR - 012028:3 (LUNAR BODY X4501-1A, TORTUGA)
THE PIT
Soap ambled into the bar. It was a bar she liked to frequent, if only because she knew the barkeep, and liked to get slightly cheaper drinks from that familiarity.
It was like most dive bars, nothing really fancy or special about the place to set it apart. Which honestly, was what she liked about it. And this was probably one of the few times she liked going to drink alone. Even if the barkeep did tend to lecture her time and time again.
Still, reaching the 'Reach Out And Touch' bar, classy name, Soap stuffed her hands into her pockets, and stepped through the partial glass doors of the place. It was about as full as she remembered it usually being, which was to say not very. It had your usual assortment of criminals, bounty hunters, travelers, and down on their luck nobodies that ensured such places survived no matter their place in the universe she found.
Walking towards the open seat at the bar, she settled in. "Whiskey on the rocks." She ordered, lifting a hand to then raise a single finger. She was intent on getting through this with little fanfare, little trouble, and a lot of alcohol consumed.
"Welcome back Sophia. Been busy?" The barkeep asked, her own vulpine tail flicking a moment as she got the requested drink ready. Unlike Soap, the barkeep looked more like a fox that had been made into a more human shape than a human with fox features tacked on. Her eyes were a rich blue, and she had a sleek orange-ish red pelt of fur, with a neon red hair-do that was in a pixie bob cut. It helped to outline the fox ears on her head and the short muzzle that she had.
"Soap. I go by Soap. You know this One-Eye." Soap stated very bluntly as the tumbler with ice and half full of whiskey was placed in front of her. She didn't usually like being called by her name in public, since it felt too 'normal' for her. And she was anything but normal. Broken is probably a term she'd use to describe herself in place of normal.
"I know. I just don't care. Especially not amongst the rest of the Division. Fredrick came by the other day by the way. Asked if I knew how you were doing." the barkeep replied, picking up an almost empty glass off the bar, putting it into the sink built in so she could wash it. "You could try calling me Lyan at some point you know." She stated flatly while the glass had a squirt of soap put in and then hot water cascaded around it when put directly under the faucet.
"Two-Tone? The fuck he want to do that? Wait, let me guess, he wanted me to come crawling back and be a good little bitch and sign up too?" Soap stated, sounding bitter even as she lifted her own glass and downing part of it with practiced ease.
"No, Fredrick wanted to see if you were finally done running away. But it seems like you still are. Hell, most of us are worried about you Sophia." Lyan pointed out.
"I ain't fucking running One-Eye. Just don't fucking belong in this society or back on Sirris. And it's fucking Soap." She returned in kind, jabbing a finger in Lyan's direction, the rest of the hand holding onto her glass of alcohol.
"Fine, 'Soap'. But you are running away. I mean, for fucks sake, most of us have settled down, started living our lives. Things we never thought about until after we got defrosted." Lyan said, raising her hands in defeat, while grabbing ahold of a rag to begin drying the glass off.
"And why would you say I'm running away? That I ain't living my own life? I busted my ass off to get my ship, I fought tooth and nail to earn my reputation. I'm living a life of my choice!" Soap heatedly replied, finishing the glass off. "Another please." She said, putting the ice-filled tumbler on the counter.
Rolling her eyes, Lyan grabbed the bottle and poured another fill of the drink. "You don't talk to people, you drink yourself damn near into a stupor, and you don't take time in any of the places you dock at to relax, unless it's to do the second. You're running. Look at me! Sure, it's not glamorous or amazing, But I've got a wife now, Sophia. I'm happy with things for myself." Lyan explained, putting away the bottle and picking up the half-dry glass again.
"You? Have a wife? No offense One-Eye, but you were more the wife type than the husband." Soap snorted, making one of those old jokes the rest of them had about the fox she was talking to right now.
"Yes, I do. She works as a waitress here in fact." Lyan replied, rather proud of their marriage right now. "We're even trying for a kid." She continued.
"Bullshit." Soap snapped back, waving a hand dismissively as she used the other to take yet another drink of her whiskey.
"It's not bullshit and you know it. She's lovely and very good at her work and she's been a godsend to help me out of my own nightmares." Lyan replied, putting away the now dry glass before pointing a finger directly at Soap in admonishment. "For fuck's sake Sophia, if you hadn't stepped up and did what you did, more of us wouldn't be here today." She finished, sounding utterly tired of this same old argument.
"Bullshit. Two-Tone did that. He kept us alive. He kept us functional and not break entirely." Soap muttered, lowering her gaze to her drink, trying to ignore what was being said about her.
"Oh please! You know if the Republic didn't have a stick so far up its own ass that you could ride them like a merry-go-round, you would have been the XO of our division, with Fredrick as CO. You may not have been as good at the big picture like he was, but you instinctively knew how to direct us to keep casualties low and success higher than it would have been otherwise." Lyan snapped, furious at her old friend's steadfast refusal to accept what she had done during those 6 months of absolute hell they had been put through.
"I got too many killed. I made the wrong calls. And gave orders that killed too many of us." Soap replied, her own anger boiling to the surface.
"And yet we got out of there with 50 more than the standard. We survived with 5% more of us alive than the expected losses said we should have because of your ability. You understand that? You saved 5% of us because you did what you could to keep us alive." Lyan pointed out, ignoring the looks that the argument the pair of them were having were generating.
"That's still 75% of us dead! Thrown into the fucking recyc tanks to be broken back down into biomass to try again! I got too many of us killed because I FUCKED UP!"Soap growled, slamming her drink down and causing part of it to spill out of the tumbler and onto her hand and the countertop. "And I live with that fact every day. Every time I find myself back in those fucking exercises. And I'm left with a hollow mess of a person trying to remind myself that I'm not there anymore." She finished, ignoring the streaks of red that had joined the bronze liquid from where her grip had cracked the glass and cut her palm.
The discussion and the slamming of the tumbler seemed to surprise several patrons, more than a few backing away and wondering if there was about to be a fight between the barkeep and the foxmod sitting right there. One or two even deciding right then and there they were done with their drinks, putting their script on the table and walking out, not wanting to get between two Hassani War era genemods.
Which legitimately said something about how the pirates and ne'er-do-wells felt about things. They just wanted to avoid trouble unless they were the ones making it.
Lyan sighed. "Damn it... Honey!" She called out, looking away from Soap and towards the bar space itself. One of the waitresses, a caninemod that looked to have German shepherd influence, though both ears and tail were black. One of the ears perked up and she turned to look over at Lyan. "Get the medical kit." Lyan explained, getting a nod from the waitress who gave a quick apology to the customers she was at and hurried to put the tray in her hand on the counter and head into the back.
Turning her gaze back to Soap, Lyan sighed. "Come on, let go of the glass and let's get that cleaned up." She said gently, knowing that continuing the argument here and now wasn't worth it much less warranted.
Taking several deep breaths, Soap finally eased up her grip on the broken glass, hissing slightly as the pain began to register, her palm not quite shredded, but definitely badly cut up by her strength squeezing the glass and the slamming she'd done to it in her anger. With an exhausted expression, she put her hand down on the counter, palm up, while Lyan got a clean rag and began dabbing at the mess, trying to clean it enough to simplify the aid.
Almost at the same time the waitress came back out with a military aid kit, opened it and got out some of the supplies. They did so with the movements and calmness that spoke more of her having been a medical professional before a waitress, as they began to tend to the wound.
"Next time you have a friend get into a bitch fit with you dear, I'm throwing the both of you into a room and waiting to see who comes out." The caninemod stated bluntly, eyes focused on her work, though her tail was wagging slightly as she did.
Soap rolled her eyes. Sure, she probably could take One-eye in a CQC fight, but the sniper had her beat in a ranged engagement, hands down. And as much as she didn't like the verbal fights they had, Soap didn't want to lose another friend. Another comrade from those days. "I doubt you'd find out for a long while." She muttered, waiting for the medical alcohol to burn on her cuts.
And burn they did, getting a pained hiss from the foxmod, which the waitress pointedly ignored as she then applied a salve to the injury before starting to wrap a bandage roll around it. "Yeah well, I know that Lyan wouldn't want to keep me waiting forever, so she'd figure something out pretty damned quick. Bethany Bailey." She said, giving the foxmod a smile.
"My name's Soap."
"Her name is Sophia Brookmire."
The two different responses had come out at the exact same time that the two foxmods looked at each other and chuckled slightly.
Bethany smiled and finished bandaging the injury. "Well, Sophia, I'm sure you can keep from doing anything too crazy going forward." She said, getting a glare from Soap as she said that.
"I'll be fine." Soap said, giving her hand a few test grips and being at least satisfied with the whole thing. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a couple of script tokens, and laid them on the counter. "If you'll excuse me." She finished, turning and walking out of the bar, getting a sigh from Lyan.
"I hope she finds a way to come to terms with everything sooner rather than later. And in a healthy way too." Lyan said, sadly, while her wife hugged her. "Thanks Wiggles." She said, watching as Bethany's tail began to wag at the compliment, causing her body to wiggle in the process.
THE PIT
Soap ambled into the bar. It was a bar she liked to frequent, if only because she knew the barkeep, and liked to get slightly cheaper drinks from that familiarity.
It was like most dive bars, nothing really fancy or special about the place to set it apart. Which honestly, was what she liked about it. And this was probably one of the few times she liked going to drink alone. Even if the barkeep did tend to lecture her time and time again.
Still, reaching the 'Reach Out And Touch' bar, classy name, Soap stuffed her hands into her pockets, and stepped through the partial glass doors of the place. It was about as full as she remembered it usually being, which was to say not very. It had your usual assortment of criminals, bounty hunters, travelers, and down on their luck nobodies that ensured such places survived no matter their place in the universe she found.
Walking towards the open seat at the bar, she settled in. "Whiskey on the rocks." She ordered, lifting a hand to then raise a single finger. She was intent on getting through this with little fanfare, little trouble, and a lot of alcohol consumed.
"Welcome back Sophia. Been busy?" The barkeep asked, her own vulpine tail flicking a moment as she got the requested drink ready. Unlike Soap, the barkeep looked more like a fox that had been made into a more human shape than a human with fox features tacked on. Her eyes were a rich blue, and she had a sleek orange-ish red pelt of fur, with a neon red hair-do that was in a pixie bob cut. It helped to outline the fox ears on her head and the short muzzle that she had.
"Soap. I go by Soap. You know this One-Eye." Soap stated very bluntly as the tumbler with ice and half full of whiskey was placed in front of her. She didn't usually like being called by her name in public, since it felt too 'normal' for her. And she was anything but normal. Broken is probably a term she'd use to describe herself in place of normal.
"I know. I just don't care. Especially not amongst the rest of the Division. Fredrick came by the other day by the way. Asked if I knew how you were doing." the barkeep replied, picking up an almost empty glass off the bar, putting it into the sink built in so she could wash it. "You could try calling me Lyan at some point you know." She stated flatly while the glass had a squirt of soap put in and then hot water cascaded around it when put directly under the faucet.
"Two-Tone? The fuck he want to do that? Wait, let me guess, he wanted me to come crawling back and be a good little bitch and sign up too?" Soap stated, sounding bitter even as she lifted her own glass and downing part of it with practiced ease.
"No, Fredrick wanted to see if you were finally done running away. But it seems like you still are. Hell, most of us are worried about you Sophia." Lyan pointed out.
"I ain't fucking running One-Eye. Just don't fucking belong in this society or back on Sirris. And it's fucking Soap." She returned in kind, jabbing a finger in Lyan's direction, the rest of the hand holding onto her glass of alcohol.
"Fine, 'Soap'. But you are running away. I mean, for fucks sake, most of us have settled down, started living our lives. Things we never thought about until after we got defrosted." Lyan said, raising her hands in defeat, while grabbing ahold of a rag to begin drying the glass off.
"And why would you say I'm running away? That I ain't living my own life? I busted my ass off to get my ship, I fought tooth and nail to earn my reputation. I'm living a life of my choice!" Soap heatedly replied, finishing the glass off. "Another please." She said, putting the ice-filled tumbler on the counter.
Rolling her eyes, Lyan grabbed the bottle and poured another fill of the drink. "You don't talk to people, you drink yourself damn near into a stupor, and you don't take time in any of the places you dock at to relax, unless it's to do the second. You're running. Look at me! Sure, it's not glamorous or amazing, But I've got a wife now, Sophia. I'm happy with things for myself." Lyan explained, putting away the bottle and picking up the half-dry glass again.
"You? Have a wife? No offense One-Eye, but you were more the wife type than the husband." Soap snorted, making one of those old jokes the rest of them had about the fox she was talking to right now.
"Yes, I do. She works as a waitress here in fact." Lyan replied, rather proud of their marriage right now. "We're even trying for a kid." She continued.
"Bullshit." Soap snapped back, waving a hand dismissively as she used the other to take yet another drink of her whiskey.
"It's not bullshit and you know it. She's lovely and very good at her work and she's been a godsend to help me out of my own nightmares." Lyan replied, putting away the now dry glass before pointing a finger directly at Soap in admonishment. "For fuck's sake Sophia, if you hadn't stepped up and did what you did, more of us wouldn't be here today." She finished, sounding utterly tired of this same old argument.
"Bullshit. Two-Tone did that. He kept us alive. He kept us functional and not break entirely." Soap muttered, lowering her gaze to her drink, trying to ignore what was being said about her.
"Oh please! You know if the Republic didn't have a stick so far up its own ass that you could ride them like a merry-go-round, you would have been the XO of our division, with Fredrick as CO. You may not have been as good at the big picture like he was, but you instinctively knew how to direct us to keep casualties low and success higher than it would have been otherwise." Lyan snapped, furious at her old friend's steadfast refusal to accept what she had done during those 6 months of absolute hell they had been put through.
"I got too many killed. I made the wrong calls. And gave orders that killed too many of us." Soap replied, her own anger boiling to the surface.
"And yet we got out of there with 50 more than the standard. We survived with 5% more of us alive than the expected losses said we should have because of your ability. You understand that? You saved 5% of us because you did what you could to keep us alive." Lyan pointed out, ignoring the looks that the argument the pair of them were having were generating.
"That's still 75% of us dead! Thrown into the fucking recyc tanks to be broken back down into biomass to try again! I got too many of us killed because I FUCKED UP!"Soap growled, slamming her drink down and causing part of it to spill out of the tumbler and onto her hand and the countertop. "And I live with that fact every day. Every time I find myself back in those fucking exercises. And I'm left with a hollow mess of a person trying to remind myself that I'm not there anymore." She finished, ignoring the streaks of red that had joined the bronze liquid from where her grip had cracked the glass and cut her palm.
The discussion and the slamming of the tumbler seemed to surprise several patrons, more than a few backing away and wondering if there was about to be a fight between the barkeep and the foxmod sitting right there. One or two even deciding right then and there they were done with their drinks, putting their script on the table and walking out, not wanting to get between two Hassani War era genemods.
Which legitimately said something about how the pirates and ne'er-do-wells felt about things. They just wanted to avoid trouble unless they were the ones making it.
Lyan sighed. "Damn it... Honey!" She called out, looking away from Soap and towards the bar space itself. One of the waitresses, a caninemod that looked to have German shepherd influence, though both ears and tail were black. One of the ears perked up and she turned to look over at Lyan. "Get the medical kit." Lyan explained, getting a nod from the waitress who gave a quick apology to the customers she was at and hurried to put the tray in her hand on the counter and head into the back.
Turning her gaze back to Soap, Lyan sighed. "Come on, let go of the glass and let's get that cleaned up." She said gently, knowing that continuing the argument here and now wasn't worth it much less warranted.
Taking several deep breaths, Soap finally eased up her grip on the broken glass, hissing slightly as the pain began to register, her palm not quite shredded, but definitely badly cut up by her strength squeezing the glass and the slamming she'd done to it in her anger. With an exhausted expression, she put her hand down on the counter, palm up, while Lyan got a clean rag and began dabbing at the mess, trying to clean it enough to simplify the aid.
Almost at the same time the waitress came back out with a military aid kit, opened it and got out some of the supplies. They did so with the movements and calmness that spoke more of her having been a medical professional before a waitress, as they began to tend to the wound.
"Next time you have a friend get into a bitch fit with you dear, I'm throwing the both of you into a room and waiting to see who comes out." The caninemod stated bluntly, eyes focused on her work, though her tail was wagging slightly as she did.
Soap rolled her eyes. Sure, she probably could take One-eye in a CQC fight, but the sniper had her beat in a ranged engagement, hands down. And as much as she didn't like the verbal fights they had, Soap didn't want to lose another friend. Another comrade from those days. "I doubt you'd find out for a long while." She muttered, waiting for the medical alcohol to burn on her cuts.
And burn they did, getting a pained hiss from the foxmod, which the waitress pointedly ignored as she then applied a salve to the injury before starting to wrap a bandage roll around it. "Yeah well, I know that Lyan wouldn't want to keep me waiting forever, so she'd figure something out pretty damned quick. Bethany Bailey." She said, giving the foxmod a smile.
"My name's Soap."
"Her name is Sophia Brookmire."
The two different responses had come out at the exact same time that the two foxmods looked at each other and chuckled slightly.
Bethany smiled and finished bandaging the injury. "Well, Sophia, I'm sure you can keep from doing anything too crazy going forward." She said, getting a glare from Soap as she said that.
"I'll be fine." Soap said, giving her hand a few test grips and being at least satisfied with the whole thing. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a couple of script tokens, and laid them on the counter. "If you'll excuse me." She finished, turning and walking out of the bar, getting a sigh from Lyan.
"I hope she finds a way to come to terms with everything sooner rather than later. And in a healthy way too." Lyan said, sadly, while her wife hugged her. "Thanks Wiggles." She said, watching as Bethany's tail began to wag at the compliment, causing her body to wiggle in the process.