Snippet #1490225

Neira laughed. Though his tone was angry, she wasn't terribly afraid of the consequences. "You think that was a mind-fuck? General, that was neither literally applicable nor the worst of it. If you are interested in discovering either, however, I would indeed be able to oblige." The nightmarian smirked, but decided to leave off teasing him for a while. He quite frankly seemed flustered enough as it was. "They asked me what I thought I was; I considered putting 'sadistic bitch with armored fists and the ability to use psionics,' but 'monk' was much more succinct." She shrugged.

What he said next though, turned the tables a bit and confused her. Just what did he mean by that? One's bodily reactions to the presence of other nightmarians was part of the entire hive-mind connection. She had done her damnedest to bring both under her own sway, and mostly succeeded. Perhaps it was not strong enough in him to register that way? But then why...? She shook her head. "It doesn't matter either way. Whatever it was, if it can be used to alter your consciousness, you need to be able to control it." With that, she was dismissed, and departed.

---

The next morning, she was once again standing in a line of fellow soldiers. To her right was the harpy-of-indeterminate-gender-until-he-spoke and to her left was the can't-see-a-damn-thing-but-apparently-slings-spells-without-collateral-damage dark elf girl. Dead gods, she had wound up with a load of bloody bizarre people.

The girl looked a bit spooked, but she supposed that was what happened when one was about to face their second battle as members of what Neira had internally termed the Suicide Squad. Not that they were all going to die, necessarily (she for one had an annoying habit of continuing to exist long past the point where someone should have killed her, and was under the impression that some of the others were the same), but that didn't mean the Legion wasn't trying its hardest to leave them in a damn ditch somewhere.

Between the battle last time and now their lovely little 'promotion,' she would not be at all surprised to find it was true. If she ever discovered for certain who was directly responsible for this (and she had her suspicions), she wasn't quite sure if she would kiss them or kill them first. On the one hand, she loved little more than an impossible fight, but she also greatly despised being used. No, definitely kill. Then maybe bring them flowers or something equally inane. That was what people did for dead people they still gave a shit about, right? She'd never cared about anyone, so she wouldn't know really.

---

It was too damn quiet out here, and mark her thoughts, somebody was gonna attack them. Maybe not right away, but it was going to happen. No doubt about it. Because really, what were the chances of being able to march on Dragon territory unassailed? Fuck all, that's what.