So much of life was simply the result of chance. No matter how many targets you shot down in training, sometimes it was the turn of the wind that would win the fight. No matter how many reviews you made of the map, sometimes it was pure instinct that lead you down the correct path. And no matter how many times you patrolled the hallways… it took only a moment’s inattention for a stranger to slip through.
In his defense, it had been a long evening. His other, the Blade, had long since bored of playing Colony, leaving him to shuffle the cards idly while Blade jogged along the halls. It was a banquet night, which in theory meant that they would be accompanying the Mother to the table, standing Guard amongst the laughter and the lights, doing their best to keep an antennae quirked for the whispers of politics that went on behind raised hands and coy expressions… but in reality, it meant an isolated shift far away from all the revelry, staring at the rivets in the wall while the rest of the Motherguard had fun without them.
Jerks.
He hoped they would at least save him some cake.
He didn’t bother to look up from the cards as his other jogged past for the hundreth time, frowning at the increased discrepancy between footfalls as he ran. He would need to step in shortly, he knew, and redirect his attention. The Blade always did have a habit of– //OBSERVATION: Those footfalls are far too light to belong to a crelean potal.// The cards scattered in an explosion of movement, the halls ringing with a song of warning as he vaulted over the table, Blade’s answering call much too far to make a different.
Shit. Shit and slag it all– He barreled down the hallway, towards the warm beacon of light that was the Mother’s chambers, singing louder but his voice was much to small to ring the halls. He grit his teeth, damning the Commander off hob-nobbing with the foreigners, and pushed onwards. A flick of the wrist and his kajj sparked to life in his hand, the arcing blue light just enough to illuminate the tip of a white tail, disappearing behind Mother’s grand doors.
One of them.
The foreigners.
Of course it was them, no crelean would ever dare–
“Ahhh…? I see that my hatchlings have failed in their duties… Or perhaps it is merely that you have succeeded in yours…?”
Mother’s voice rang true, resonating throughout the ship and carrying with it her amusement. Qud’s steps slowed as he approached the door, frowning. She didn’t sound distressed, or even angry. If anything she sounded… happy.
He peeked into the chamber, just as another voice lifted to answer the Vincam matriarch. This voice was small and yet… pleasant, carrying with it some of the musicality of crelean song.
“Oh! Forgive me, Mother!” The Stranger sputtered, two pairs of hands fluttering in front of him, tail flicking nervously behind him as he looked up and up, long neck stretching gracefully as he attempted to meet the Mother’s eyes. “I was just looking around, I hadn’t meant to– My manners — I am the Diplomat Marcellus, at your service.”
“Service, is it…?”
Mother asked, a smile playing across her lips as she shifted to face the door. That large golden gaze had Qud ducking back out of the doorway, in spite of its warmth.
“Perhaps you could serve as some amusement for my Guards. Bored ones can be so ineffective, you see…”
Her laughed rumbled like thunder, warm and dense.