milliways_bar | (no subject)

Even though Kara's been sticking to water all day, chugging it throughout pyramid practice, she comes back inside and can't sit still long before she switches to alcohol. Leaning on the bar, she asks for booze and is presented with a tall tumbler of ambrosia, home in a glass. Picking it up, she wipes the sweat from her brow and glances around.

"Look," she says to the bar after a moment. "I hear that if I take along something from you I have a better chance of making it back here once I'm finally allowed to go home. A drink stirrer or a napkin or something." She hesitates. "Don't make it a frakking napkin. Give me a bottle cap."

That appears on the bar too: a thin black bottle cap with the word Milliways written in white cursive over a small star almost as vibrant a green as her ambrosia.

It'll do. When she makes it back to Galactica she'll punch a hole in it and wear it with her dog tags, but for now she slips it into her pocket.

(OOC: The linked pyramid practice is open to any interested team members, no time limits! This in-bar post is open to anyone!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kara . . . is not wrong.

The first two shots go through Ilena's ribcage; the third through her hip. By then she's started to identify this strange form of attack -- the projectiles come fast, fast as an Awakened One's tentacles, and with no youma energy to give warning of their approach.

On the other hand, Ilena is also fast -- and now she's leaping in a zigzag blur towards the metal beast. Unlike the aforementioned tentacles, these projectiles come in straight lines, which makes them relatively predictable. And while the flying pellets move as fast as a Claymore, the monster itself emphatically does not.

"Keep down!" she commands, her voice slightly ragged with the pain of her wounds, and then makes her final swing, sword flying to slice both gunning arms clean off.

It shot Ilena.

It shot her, she saw it.

But Ilena takes off like some kind of godsdamn superhero with a sword. (Maybe she is.) From Kara's spot on the ground, she watches in horror as a sword goes up against a Cylon and then literally disarms it.

She rises, eyes darting to the crest of the hillside (still empty for the moment), and then she starts running to Ilena and that sparking mess at her feet, feeling the absence of a gun every step of the way. "It'll have friends. My gun's back at the bar, so we need to find cover and look at your wounds."

Her eyes drop to Ilena's midsection, searching, but she crouches to pick up one of the Cylon arms.

Ilena follows up her swing with another blindingly quick series of slice through the midsection of the monster; only once she is satisfied that it's thoroughly disabled does she turn back to Kara, sword balanced in front of her.

"The injuries are slight. You needn't concern yourself."

The leather of her outfit is torn and bloody around the entrance and exit wounds of the bullets, but the blood is already drying. (She'll be annoyed about that, later, when she has time. Clean clothes don't grow on trees.)

Still, there's an edgy note in her voice as she demands, "What is this thing? It isn't alive."

And what does Kara want with the arm -- a trophy?

(And what, for that matter, is a 'gun'?)

Her injuries are slight? Kara's eyebrows arch.

"Yeah, stiff upper lip, I get it," she says crisply, ignoring the pile of sparking Centurion once she's hefted the arm onto her shoulder. Not the weapon she'd prefer for taking on Cylons, but she refuses to go empty-handed. "But unless you want to tell me you're bulletproof--" She's almost willing to believe it. There's no good reason Ilena should still be this upright. "--I'm gonna assume you won't be alive for long either. Which'll suck," she adds, matter-of-fact, and taps the Centurion with her toe, "when more Cylons show up. Most of them look like this, but some have skin and hair and look like we do. Don't let it fool you. They're still robots."