Thread: [ the apprentice ] [ newblood x Niksis ]

One of her well manicured eyebrows arched and she bowed her head once in understanding when he declared that she would now have enemies. Enemies who wanted her dead. Perhaps this was why she had been so hesitant to explore her abilities she didn't want to be used as a pawn. Her untapped, unrefined abilities made her an asset or a liability, depending on who was looking at her. Zyra's eyes were hesitant as they looked up at him, listening. The gloved hand on her high set cheekbone was encouraging. She had seen what sort of devastation he could lay out, in that moment Zyra found herself thinking about the carnage he had created. The juxtaposition between his brutality and the softness with which he touched her face was striking. His words indeed linger - return alive because he had other uses for her. Eyelashes fluttered and she nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly, and eventually fell back. Her body carried her toward the hangar, hardly noticed amid the chaos. She noticed that some pilots were in pairs, settling into bigger fighters. Zyra quickly grabbed all of her thick, dark hair and piled it atop her head in a ponytail accented by elaborate braids and twists. She grabbed a pair of boots and a jacket perched atop a set of controls, which someone would probably be needing, but she wanted to fit in. The last thing Zyra wanted was to be seen as a plaything of The Order. If she was going to be around these people, she wanted to earn respect. Her father had never let her coast on her name, the Th'lea empire was irrelevant. She had spent her life until recent years earning her place in the underworld. Even if that empire had crumbled and she hid out in a strip club, it had been something for a while. She didn't have time to reflect on failures as she approached a pair of pilots, The General assigned me to this ship, she lied smoothly, intercepting the pilots. I'm a gunner. She motioned toward a ship primed, idling and ready to go. Assignments were assignments, and the pairing split, the gunner she replaced simply climbing into another ship. It seemed that this regime was a well oiled machine, made functional by rules and dictations. She climbed in, relieved that she didn't need to actually pilot. She had never flown anything other than planet-bound shuttles, but guns she knew. She'd been owning, firing, using them since she was old enough to support their weight in her arms. Weapons were necessary in organized crime. The flight was fast and brutal. The first few moments overloaded her senses, but she harnessed the anxiety to sharpen her. Zyra experimented clumsily, gauging what each control did and what each weapon was capable of. When the pilot asked what the hell she was doing , Zyra confirmed that she was fresh out of the academy and this was her first run. I've got this, just give me a second. She told the pilot, eyes sharpening and her breathing steadied. She licked her lips, hypnotized by the sights of the battle. In a way that she would never be able to articulate, she could see each path and trajectory of each ship. Fingers curled along sets of triggers, teeth grinding in her skull as she worked in tandem with the pilot he maneuvered, she took the shots. They were successful. Even still, the ship was rocked by explosions. Many resistance fighters were successful in their aiming, though nothing had managed to throw them too off balance. Zyra bit on her full bottom lip as she took shot after shot, annihilating about a half dozen on their trail. Realizing that their ship was loosing ammo and fire power, she was strategic in her assaults. Zyra waited to shoot before she was confident that she would take out two or three ships at once. The battle subsided and the Resistance retreated. She ship she had lied her way onto returned to it's spot in the hangar and she clambered out, landing on her stolen boots. She stood on her tiptoes, finding the silhouette of the Commander. A slow, pleased smile touched her face. Her tongue ran along her top teeth dangerously and she extended a hand, giving him a thumbs up and mouthing I'm alive.