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Post by Neology on Feb 13, 2019 14:12:46 GMT -5
[googlefont="News Cycle"]
Doom was in the air, invisible to the naked eye. It was less subtle in other places; Lidah had the material evidence to prove it. Algae farms choked with gray and violet slime. A frankly ridiculous bill for air filters. It was only a matter of time now, weeks or months. She’d made plans that weighed on her soul, plans that stretched far beyond the orderly heart of her empire – those parts which Vance had tended so carefully in her absence. No, she would need her full reach for this. The most vicious gangs, every dealer, addict, and whore. The order was simple: incinerate the dead immediately. It wouldn't stop the Archeri, but perhaps it would slow them. The Basilisk had made the plague’s transformative nature plain, new horrors with echoes of the old. She surely would never be free from Taris. The nightmares had become steadily worse, each sleep cycle after the tank. Yet for all the bad, at least now she could go home. Lidah stared up at the Eye’s bight facade and smiled beneath her breath mask. The door opened for the chip on her spine and sealed behind her with expensive hydraulic finality. In many ways, the Blind Eye Hotel & Casino was built more like a space station than a planet-side installation. It was empty now, or nearly so. The droid workers remained, turning slowly toward her with eerie synchronization. Lidah unhooked her paper mask from one pointed ear, finger drawing a stark line of blood across that cheek. ”That can’t be it.” She turned in place, hating the sight of the place so emptied out. Her senses licked out, ran abruptly into something fiercely locked down. A glance in the corresponding direction revealed a flicker of movement; Yarlocc’s ash blonde hair, darker under the dim greenish lights. Lidah slid into his booth, turning his bottle around for inspection. She made a disgusted noise. ”I pay better than this, don’t I?” Her fingers left bloody black smudges on the glass. Finally noticing, she stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. ”I suppose it’ll all have to be thrown out anyway. So, go hog wild. Enjoy the pricey shit.” The bruised, bleeding nailbeds didn’t hurt. Her head did, pounding beneath a waxy feverish sheen. Lidah wanted her bath, the tub upstairs that was almost big enough to swim in. Creature comforts and things less tangible still. ”You left before I woke up, you know, but I wanted to thank you. For the tank prep.” She had pulled the medbay video logs, just glad that it hadn’t been Vance. Fast forwarded all the way through to the end, when she’d shattered the tank. Not her brightest moment, not to mention strange. Some flaw in the glass from manufacturing – she shouldn’t have been able to break it. |