Cloudbreak IC: Glimpse of the sky

[TheAmishPirate]

A short while later, you and your Pegasus companion (i.e. your mission buddy, not your mission "buddy-with-benefits(?)") exit the room, the latter still trying to brush charred whipped cream out of her mane.

"I never realised that stuff was so flammable" she grumbles, tucking the shock-stick back in her packs while she walks away. "Those pre-war preservatives really should have more warning labels on them"

"Also. I have to say. That was either a masterclass, or absolutely disgusting. I still can't decide which. Probably both." she continues, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

The Scrapscallion picked up his jacket from where it’d been flung off of him, brushed the ash off, and stormed out. For the first time since they’d met, The Scrapscallion didn’t have a thing to say to her.

Masterclass? That Enclave punk gave everything to him. He gave back twice as good as he got, and buddy, he was good. Proudest moment? Had to be when he’d asked what he should call her, and they got name, rank, post, and favorite color on tape. In-between when he’d let her come up for air. You know what? Scratch that. He didn’t give a thing back. He’d all but devoured her. She could hide what she’d done under that fancy armor, but he’d marked her for weeks. She’d be waking up in a cold sweat thinking of him. He was the best she could ever hope to have.

And he wasn’t done.

Stars. He wasn’t done.

Just a few more minutes. He still had some things he could try. This base had all kinds of wacky sky tech; just think of what he could do with wing-cuffs! There were whole chapters of his book of tricks they’d barely brushed. There must’ve been something in there. Something to make this whole thing just right. He could’ve found it.

If he’d just had a few more minutes.

If she hadn’t pulled the ripcord on him.

Joke’s on her, she didn’t get to see a masterclass. She didn’t get to see what she was missing, so there. Guess nopony gets to walk away happy, right? He was pissed, she was deprived, and Camber…

Well. Screw Camber, anyway.

[Rolling for Moment of Intimacy: 1 + 3 + 3 = 7 Which would be -1 Hx with General Camber, and she'd get +1 Hx with Scraps, but unfortunately she's an NPC. I'm good with however you interpret that.]

Anyway, Scraps, you have your recording - scandalous enough to singe the ears of anypony listening to it. What do you do now.

The Scrapscallion stomped to the nearest terminal, jammed the audio recorder into the slot, and fired off a message to the rest of the Enclave fleet. No attempts at hiding this time; they were playing the role of a panicked grunt who’d just seen something she shouldn’t have. In went the auth codes. In went the panicked message. Help, help, General engaging in illicit kiss crimes, they’re onto me, I don’t know how long I have, help, etc. Send. Invasion: Postponed.

“We got a job to do.” He growled, marching for the prison. “C’mon.”

[Balmas]

The gravelly voices can only really be coming from one type of creature - ghouls. The fact they're talking does mean they aren't the mindless creatures that feed on pony flesh that sometimes infest the wasteland. It'd almost be enough to conclude that they are absolutely no threat to yourself whatsoever.

Except … this is Canterlot. A Canterlot that has been buried in the necromantic energies of Pink Cloud for two hundred years.

Tell me, Starlight, have you ever met a Canterlot ghoul?

Met? No. Familiar with, have dissected? Yes. Starlight's aware of the outside world, but until recent... developments, has usually not ventured out into it. Let's call it a working knowledge.

So c’mon. What’re you waiting for?

Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you lonely?

Stressed, stressed out of your mind…

Wouldn’t it feel good to just...let it all go?

Why not take a little taste?

Just a little. A few moments. That’s all.

No one will ever know…

[Seduce/Manipulate: 5 + 4 + 2 = 11. The dice have spoken. While I still don’t want this going all the way, this is definitely a Moment of Intimacy. Will roll that on my next post.]

The Pegasus looks at you, lost in your eyes. Her helmet clatters as her hooves fail to place it properly on the side table.

She steps closer … timidly, but with a barely restrained energy. Her hooves tremble as they reach for you.

Closer.

Closer.

And then … the dam breaks.

WAIT NO CRAPDAMMIT NO

No, this will not do at all. The images--how did they even do that thing with the weathervane?--are seared in her skull. She doesn't want to think about her child like that, doesn't want those kinds of images, and suddenly wishes she actually knew how to shut this thing down.

No, no, nope, not gonna think about that. Time for some healthy, age-old technique of repressing it deep in her soul and never once ever again mentioning it.

[BlasTech]

Aaand -- new thread is up.