runmakitarun | As with most things, there is a beginning

Entry tags:

oom,
war in bahamut

As with most things, there is a beginning

Earlier today Makita spoke to the people on her team she could find, and left notes with Bar for those she couldn't. Today is the day. It's time to go back.

While she's spoken to her team about what to expect, at least to some degree, no one's gotten a full briefing yet. She's pushed some tables out of the way to form a sort of open space in one corner of the bar, and as people begin to arrive she's starting to unpack the five military-style duffel bags at her feet, laying the contents out on the tables nearby. Grenades, mines, boxes of ammo, and a few guns are slowly spread out like a deadly little buffet.

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She's right, of course. But the words that eventually leave Goldy's mouth don't confirm anything in that vein.

"You look good, Tiger."

Miho nods, accepting the compliment. Goldy look goods herself - even in all the layers of winter clothing. But of course, she knows she looks good, she doesn't need Miho to tell her that. Which is a good thing, really.

Under the circumstances, it would probably be best to leave things there for now, in their precarious equilibrium. But Goldy has never been a particularly prudent sort.

"I don't suppose you've got a few spare shuriken?" she asks, still smiling. An odd request, given the Fable's weapon preferences. But Miho, more than anyone else, should know that Goldy can use them in a pinch. She taught her how, after all.

"Just... as something I can fall back on as a last resort if things get really out of control."

Of course she has. She's well loaded - which means she can spare a few. Especially for Goldy, when it comes down to it.

One of the sheaths hooked onto her belt has a stack of leaf shuriken in - along with the various others she has about her person - but she's used to carrying razor-sharp metal in her clothes. Goldy, is less so. She gets the easy-access, low-risk solution to her projectile needs.

Miho hands over the gear.

"Thanks."

Goldy accepts the sheath and fixes it onto her own belt. She has no intention of using the contents. She just wanted Miho to come closer without having to make an advance herself. Out of some kind of masochistic curiosity, she wanted to see her at point blank.

And now that she does, she draws in a deep breath and closes her eyes.

Miho frowns slightly, brows knitting together, and reaches out to touch Goldy's arm, with one finger. The pressure is light enough to be barely noticeable through Goldy's thick jacket, but it is there. Miho looks confused - because she is.

There's evidence of a brief mental struggle. Then, Goldy's shoulders slump and she sighs:

"Fuck it."

Her eyes open and she pulls Miho into a tender hug.

Miho freezes for a moment, eyes widening, before relaxing into the hug, wrapping her arms around Goldy, and laying her cheek on her shoulder. Her lips twitch for a moment, as if about to say something, but still before a sound passes them.

Goldy strokes a hand over Miho's tightly bound hair and breathes in her scent.

It feels good to hold her.

Good.

Not right.

This is not her Miho, and it never will be. There are too many pieces missing or permanently shattered. But, it feels good to embrace the elements that are left.

She can do this much.

Miho squeezes Goldy gently for a moment, then steps back, and out of the hug. She looks at her for a moment, gaze steady, before nodding, giving her a wistful little smile, and turning to the table of weapons. She's pretty sure she's not going to need anything, but she wants to familiarise herself with what the others will be using, beyond what she already knows.

Goldy gives her ass a friendly swat as she withdraws.

"Alright, alright. Shush already. I'm getting back on task with the ass kicking preparations."

Grinning to herself, she turns her attention to the equipment table as well.

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As with most things, there is a beginning

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