darkSpyro

Vuxta simply smiled sweetly and nodded to Plagarius. She thought he was being a bit too thankful for simply being given information, but at the same time his gentlemanly nature was part of what made him such a pleasure to work with. She was happy that they were on this mission together.

His company was definitely welcome, even if he was a bit clingy sometimes. Okay, he was very clingy pretty much all the time and she would likely have to help him a lot during the mission, but she didn't mind. She liked being there for others and helping them, and Plagarius was really sweet and endearing. She definitely didn't have to worry about being taken for granted.

The sound of the doorbell immediately grabbed her attention. Vuxta would have gotten the door herself if Plagarius hadn't beaten her to it. She figured he probably would. As expected, it was a fellow member of the Brotherhood. Vuxta watched and listened intently as the Corvonian brought their companion into the house.

She took notice of the folded paper peeking out of Valdarin's pocket, as well as how frustrated he seemed. His anger became more apparent as veins throbbed violently on his face. She wondered what was bothering him. Did something happen at school? She heard about what happened in gym from Zurgon, but--Wait, wasn't Valdarin supposed to be the gym teacher? Did he get in trouble because of the behavior the students' displayed while not being supervised?

"Of course we would be willing to listen." Vuxta said with a worried tone to her voice as she walked over to them. "Come, sit down and make yourself comfortable. Tell us what's bothering you." She said softly.

Nodding, I sigh and take a seat in a chair. Withdrawing the folded paper from my left jacket pocket, I unfold it and set it on the table for all to see. Then after taking a long, deep breath to calm down, I begin to speak.

"Well you all heard of and know of the fighting that broke out in the gym today, I was absent during the whole thing. You see, just an hour or so before class, our superiors contacted me. They said they had something that they wished to discuss and required that I come and meet with them at this certain location. Understanding the importance of meeting with our superiors, I called and had a substitute, a human take over for me, for the the day. The meeting with our superiors went very well. They were pleased with my work and how I had so easily integrated into the human population. I was feeling great, until I received a phone call. Someone was yelling, well actually screaming on the phone. After I have recovered from the ringing in my ears and my headache, I realize that the voice is the head of the school board. All that I can make out of all the foul language and screaming is that they want me to come to their office immediately. No wanting any trouble and knowing how things work at the school, I make my way to their office, wondering what could be the reason behind all of this. As I reach the door, I swallow and opening it, enter the room. Immediately I am assaulted by screaming, curses, insults and a whole slew of foul language, as everyone there demands answers for want happened. After I have deciphered what they are talking about, I try to defend myself. The mob however refuses to believe me, claiming that I am just making excuses. Continuing to hurl curses, insults and foul language at me, throughout the entire "meeting", I have had enough. Throwing open the door to the office and nearly shattering the glass window frame, I retreat, but not before receiving one last insult, a letter from the board and parents, filled with contempt and foul language aimed and meant for me. My blood boils after I read it, but I do not toss the paper away. Instead I fold it up and put it in my left jacket pocket, before heading toward my office. Coming face to face with the human that I left in charge of the class for the day, I demand to know what happened. After he explains himself, I very nearly punch his square in the face, but to prevent that, I tell him to GET OUT!. I am so mad that I can't even focus on anything, let alone, make sure that gym is clear and such, before I close and lock it for the night. An older student from one of my many classes, enters after I beckon him in. I hand him the extra pair of keys to the gym and the rooms included with it. I state that he knows what to do, and the student nods, telling me to have a good day, not knowing just what I have gone through. Heading out of the school doors I make it to my bike before, parents returning to their cars start screaming and uttering foul language as they hurl all sorts of trash they found on the ground at me, saying that that is what I am, trash, garbage, filth... Swallowing I take a deep breath and continue. They threw trash at me the entire time that I was getting on my bike and even after as I withdrew from the school grounds. Then as I make my way here, I finally find that I am free of their torment. So that's what happened today. I feel like I have been stepped on and spit on. It hurts..."

I go silent and the group see something they have not seen before, tears. rivers of them, streaming down my face. I am in agony within. Excusing myself for a minute, I try to make it outside before I do any damage, but barely make it to the door before, I slam my fist into the wall, so hard that there is a crack and blood ushers from it. Despite whatever physical pain this causes, I feel nothing. The pain inside is overwhelming, so no other pain, can I feel. To think that I was doing all this for them and this is how they treat me. It just hurts, it really hurts. Some humans are just plain nasty.

Mort followed quickly behind, now more alert and erect. He pushed his initial thoughts beside and focused on the mission at hand. Now was the opportunity to fix his mistakes, so there was no time to dwell on anything.
As they made their way to the school, his steps became almost completely silent. If there was anything he was good at, it would be stealth. Jobs that required quiet brake-in's, sneaking onto enemy territory, and the like, were what his training was for. Naturally, his species were predisposed to hiding from predators and, in some cases, each other. Their grey colorization melted into the darkness, and their soft feet carried them soundlessly.
However, he was both clothed and his feet covered. He felt like his abilities were a little bit hampered.

//Sorry for stalling this rp ive been dealing with stuffs and didnt feel like writing//

Zurgon had managed to find his way to the kitchen, his eyes lighting up as he had done so. He polished as much nooks and cranny's as he could of their food and stacked them up as high as he could in his arms. He'd gone from 0 to 100 pretty fast and was anxious to get to his room in the basement and devour his dinner, and he'd need to do so quick and in time for Vuxta's dinner. He ran out of the kitchen and into the living room where the others resided. "Alright, See ya, time to ea-WHOA" The alien had slipped on the floor and his food went flying. "MY BABIES!" He screaming, running back and forth catch the food and a can of soda with his curly tail. He then noticed the wall that had blood on it and immediately looked towards Vuxta. "I swear that wasn't me." He looked towards the new arrival, normally he'd introduce himself over-ecstatic-ly, but he was starving and wanted to eat. "What's going on here?"

((OOC: That's alright. :3))

Plagarius listened attentively as the new arrival answered his jumbled inquiries. It was pretty much the only time the doctor was ever completely quiet, when he was listening to someone else talk. At any other time when others were quiet, he would have been the one doing the talking, about everything and anything at all, or he would have filled the silence with some birdsong. Now, however, he seemed quite content in lending an ear to his fellow comrade. Corvonians loved to listen just as much as they loved to talk. They craved social interaction of any sort and were always happy to take any role in conversation or other activities.

Thus, the doctor was quite happy to listen to Valdar’s each and every answer to his earlier questions. Anyone else might have desired a much more generalized, simpler answer to his myriad of questions for the sake of simplicity and convenience, but Plagarius rather liked hearing everything his comrade had to say. For him, conversation of any sort was always pleasant to listen to, and he was also glad to hear that his fellow agent had not had any troubles in getting to their humble little establishment.

As he listened on, it became apparent that the man had something on his mind and clearly wanted to share it with the rest of them. He seemed very troubled, almost angry, even, if Plagarius was judging his facial expression correctly. Concern, similar to the kind he had expressed upon hearing Zurgon’s earlier distressed tone, immediately flared up in him again, and the need to alleviate whatever was ailing his companion manifested itself.

Nodding in agreement with Vuxta’s kind words of assurance that they would listen to whatever he had to say, Plagarius added reassuringly, “Of course. I do believe I speak for everyone here when I say that we are always willing to hear what is on your mind.”

That having been said, the Corvonian followed Valdar as he took a seat in the chair, opting to stand beside it with a gloved hand resting on top of the headrest. Normally when trying to offer a comforting presence, Plagarius would engage in physical contact with the person he was trying to console, similar to how he had taken hold of Zurgon’s hands and had checked his body for any injuries earlier. It was slightly different, however, when he was around someone who was clearly angered. It was one of the few boundaries that Corvonians had. They usually had no reservations for being very close to each other regardless of the situation. When dealing with an angry individual, however, touch was often refrained from being used. They still tended to get very close, almost to the point of touching, but this was one of the rare scenarios that physical contact was not applied.

His eyes settled momentarily on the paper Valdar had rested on the table, and for a moment he considered picking it up to read its contents. It became clear, however, that his comrade had much to say, and so he decided against it, instead simply listening to the man’s explanation of why he was so troubled.

As Valdar went on, Plagarius immediately understood why his fellow agent was so upset. He had taken the blame for something that had been beyond his control, beyond his influence. The actions of this substitute teacher had somehow condemned the man sitting right next to him, earning him the wrath of both parent and teacher alike. It was unthinkable, and almost maddening, that Valdar could have been so wrongly accused of the incident in the gym, but the doctor felt only sympathy for his companion, not anger towards the school board. It was very, very difficult to anger a Corvonian, who were kind and accepting creatures, wanting only to interact and communicate with the people around them. To them, everyone was a potential friend, even those who made a bad first impression. Their need for social interaction made them very forgiving and compliant around other people, something that, at times, was heavily exploited and taken advantage of by members of other races.

So when those first few tears started streaming from his comrade’s face at the end of his long explanation, Plagarius did not feel anger towards the people who had done this to him, but instead just wanted to comfort his fellow agent, to soothe him until no more tears were shed. He was about to start comforting him, his gloved hand already having moved to rest gently on his shoulder, when Valdar suddenly tore away. He immediately started trailing after him, but the man’s fist violently meeting the wall accompanied by a loud crack startled him into motionlessness. For a moment, he was frozen in place like a stone, surprised by his comrade’s display of anger. This moment immediately passed, however, when he saw the damage done to the wall, but more importantly, the blood that was there.

The doctor was immediately alert. In that moment, the situation had changed. No longer was he a good-natured man trying to comfort his associate, but a doctor tending to his patient. Professionalism immediately overrode his more chatty nature as he made his way to Valdar’s side in a few quick strides.

“Let me see the damage, good fellow,” he said, more authority in his voice now than his usual amiable tone. Gently taking Valdar’s arm to better see his damaged knuckles, he turned his head at the sound of Zurgon’s voice. Normally, he would answer his friend’s question – and probably talk for a great while in the process – but his doctor persona would not allow it. Getting to the point, the doctor requested urgently, “Zurgon, if you would please fetch my medical bag. It should be on the kitchen counter.” That wasn’t exactly the best place for a medical bag, but they had been in the process of unpacking, and not everything had been put in its proper place yet.

Looking to Vuxta now, he told her, “Please find me some bandages, if you would. Anything to stop the bleeding.” He didn’t need anything specific right now, just something to stop the flow of blood from Valdar’s hand.


Elim nodded mutely, casting one last glance over their surroundings before following Morph and Syndral towards the school building. His strides were long and purposeful, as if his pace would help them get this job done any faster. No, what would determine the length of this mission would be getting past any defenses the school building had in place, and whether anyone else would be skulking around the school at night. No one should be anywhere on the school grounds at this time of night, but that did not completely erase the possibility. They had to be prepared for anything to come.

((OOC: Sorry for the tiny post with Elim compared to Plagarius's monstrosity. But I wanted to ask if maybe we could have the Janitor lurking around the school building at night. It's just an idea I had, and I wanted to ask about it before our Galactic Order agents got much further. :3))

Zurgon was staring sadly at a sandwich that had splattered across the hardwood floor, tears in his eyes, it was such a beautiful sandwich and didn't deserve to go so fast, he gave it a salute and a silent bow of the before wiping his tears and standing up from his previously fallen state. Thankfully the rest of the food was okay, and that's all that mattered to him. Zurgon dislike a lot of the Zarn's customs, obviously he didn't hate the Zarn themselves but just the way they were raised to live, however once thing he could relate to was their monstrous appetite. It was fortunate that on his planet of Xzarrl that the days were longer as the different meals throughout the day could take hours due to the incredibly fast metabolism of his species. Zurgon's appetite was even more so and he would take great solace in winning many eating competitions on his home planet, it wasn't as bad as he made it out to be, there were a lot of good things on his planet that weighed out the bad, just like any other planet, Zurgon just stressed the cons because...Well maybe it was an excuse, maybe he just wanted to get away from his father and become his own Zarn and he'd been convincing himself that it was the customs his people held.

Zurgon nodded at Plagarius, his stupid looking forked tongue sticking out of his mouth as he did so, he made haste towards the kitchen, although not before literally sucking in five sandwiches, and by literally, I mean literally, Zurgon's race had the ability to suck down food, it also helped when catching prey, gluttony at its finest. Zurgon carefully placed the rest of the food on the end table in between the couches and went off in search of the medical kit. "Medical kit, Medical kit, Wheeere is the medical kit, i dunno where it is, but when i find it I'll know where it is, look ouuuuut looking for the medical kit" He sung to himself. it probably would've helped if he'd known what it looked like but there wasn't much else that stuck out to him other than the thick, bulky black leather bag that resided on the counter top beneath the overhanging microwave. A grumble shouted out from Zurgon's stomach and he patted it softly. "Soon my pet." He grabbed the medical bag with his tail and headed back toward the living room.

Zurgon liked being human but he had to admit that being able to not have to wear his disguise in their home was so...free, it felt amazing. Zurgon however had grown accustom to the clothing on earth, and unlike his usual clothing which consisted of a long sleeved red looking thing that represented a shirt with a big curved white belly looking marking that went almost up to his neck, accompanied by no pants, however he now wore a purple dress shirt from some guy called Kevin Cloon or something like that, and over that he wore a black button vest, and that was it, he went pants-less as his species could hide their genitalia whenever they wished.

Zurgon brought the bag over and held it out to Plagarius "There were some funny looking candies in there so I borrowed a few, tasted like puffy cotton but man did it hit the spot."

-------

Gordon, or Gordy as he liked to be called was roaming the school halls, a walkman attached to he tool belt as he sang along, fairly alright aswell. "Has a Devil put aside for me, for me, for meeeeee." He began to use his broom to air guitar, duckwalking back and forth and mimicking the wailing sounds of the electric guitar solo as he did so, that was until he saw a carton of milk on the floor. He turned the device off, pulled the headphones down so that they hung around his neck and picked up the nearly empty carton. "Why do we even have trash cans if everyone misses them." He began to mimic someone, most likely the Principal. "Oh, Gordon, it'll be soooooooooo easy, just take the night shift tonight, it's only the first day, the kids will keep it clean." He drank the rest of the carton and tossed it at an open garbage can. "Ooh! Swish! And the crowd goes wild for Gordy!!!!" He trailed on as he mimicked a crowds cheering and then almost immediately the emotion seeped back down to a low and he put his headphones back on and continued to hum along as he trailed through the halls.

Vuxta gave a quick nod and went off in search of bandages. She wasn't sure where they were exactly, so it could take a minute. She first checked all the boxes in the living room. Unfortunately, they weren't here. So she headed into the bathroom, thinking maybe they already ended up in there. Sure enough, they were laying right there in one of the boxes. There were different kinds in the box, and she wasn't sure what was needed, so she just picked up the box itself and brought it with her.

Vuxta approached Plagarius and held out the box, showing him the contents so that he could grab whatever he wanted. "I wasn't sure what to bring, so I just brought everything."



Syndral could tell with her horns that the immediate entrance of the school was free of people, as she didn't detect any heat signatures. So she quickly and quietly approached, with Motherbot following closely behind.

Syndral had on a utility belt underneath her hoodie and she reached into one of the pockets to pull out something that could unlock the door. In her hand was a robotic wasp of sorts. "Okay, Urzica." She whispered. "Get us inside."

The wasp gave a quiet buzz as it powered on and assessed the situation and its current task. Seeing the locked door, it approached and held out its stinger. The stinger opened up and a handle of sorts ejected from it. The wasp inserted the handle into the lock. Once inside, laser energy flowed from the handle and solidified into the shape of key needed to unlock the door. Once unlocked, the wasp buzzed and flew back to Syndral.

"Good." She told it. It gave a quick higher pitched buzz that time and then powered down. Syndral put it back into her pocket. Just as she opened the door and was about to step inside, Motherbot placed a hand on her shoulder. Syndral paused and glanced back at her. "What?"

"My sensors are picking up thermal energy inside." She stated in a hushed voice.

Syndral sighed. "Of course." She muttered. This couldn't just be a simple job, could it? She reached back into her utility belt and pulled out a robotic fly this time. "Okay, Izvi, scout the area and keep an eye on anyone inside."

The fly gave a buzz as it powered on and acknowledged its job. It then flew inside the building and headed down the hall.

OOC: I will add to this more another time, but right now I am not able to due to my emotional state.

I allow my friend and companion, Plagarius to examine my injured hand, as I sit down in a chair. Now that the anger is diminishing, the pain that I have inflicted upon myself out of anger, is apparent.Still I show no signs of pain. The tears falling down my cheeks continue to fall though, probably a mix of the physical and emotional pain that I feel. Being the last of my kind and having been hunted all over the place, I do not feel comfortable, well most of all safe revealing myself to others. Still I appreciate the care and affection that these other aliens are showing me. Unfortunately it will take much more than that to make me feel safe enough to reveal myself.

((OOC: @Lunarz - I'm sorry! D: I'm really interested in seeing where you take the Janitor's character. :3

((@Wyrstel - Just take your time, and I hope you're feeling better soon. :3))

As Zurgon and Vuxta went off to go get the items he’d requested, the Corvonian simply followed his patient as he settled himself back into the chair he had quickly vacated not moments before. Crouching down slightly, Plagarius took hold of his comrade’s forearm again. It would have been more convenient if Valdar had been sitting up on a higher perch, where he could examine the man’s injuries without having to lower himself into a kneeled position, but the doctor was used to working under conditions far worse than this, and so he said nothing of it. Besides, his patient’s wounds were not just physical, but emotional as well, and while he was learned in the mending of the body rather than the mind, he knew that it was probably best to just let his patient simmer down where he was without trying to relocate him somewhere else.

Without any medical supplies at his immediate disposal, Plagarius busied himself with examining Valdar’s injury. From the blood on both the damaged wall and his patient’s hand, it was very likely that he had broken his knuckle. Still, he couldn’t be positive until he had thoroughly inspected the wound. The Corvonian’s eyes – which were usually soft and gentle – now seemed far more raptor-like in their intensity as he concentrated on the matter at hand. Aside from the blood, he couldn’t discern much else with Valdar’s human disguise in the way. The skin he was looking at was nothing more than a mask to conceal his comrade’s true identity, and thus, was probably not actually able to bruise upon impact. Unfortunately, this meant that he could not discern any discoloration of his comrade’s hand.

He contemplated asking Valdar to remove at least part of his human disguise so that he could at least get a good look at his actual hand, but decided against it. Though he wasn’t entirely sure what method the other alien was using to hide his identity, he figured that trying to remove it would probably agitate the man’s wound, and that was something that neither of them would want. Ah, well. There were other ways to see if a hand was broken.

“Try clenching your hand into a partial fist. Gently now!” he advised. “It’s not as if you’re trying to squeeze something. Just see if you can move your fingers. Like so.” At this, the Corvonian slowly clenched and unclenched his own free hand in demonstration, gesturing for his patient to attempt to do the same.

Somewhere in the kitchen, he could hear Zurgon’s song of searching as he looked for his medical bag. Had he not been in the middle of tending to a medical emergency, he would have trilled at this, but now was not the time for such things. He had a patient to worry about and couldn’t let anything distract him.

Well, nothing aside from yet another potential patient. As Zurgon reentered the room proclaiming that he had eaten some of the “candies” in his medical bag, the Corvonian just barely restrained himself from squawking in alarm. “Zurgon, you ate the cotton balls?” he cried in dismay. Alarms were immediately going off in his head about how those things could obstruct a person’s digestive track and how his dear companion was now at risk of having bezoars slowly beginning to form in his intestines.

Taking a deep breath to settle himself back down, the doctor gratefully took his medical bag from Zurgon’s hands, setting it beside him on the floor for future use. Reasoning with himself that the severity of the situation depended on just how many cotton balls equated to “a few” in Zurgon’s mind, he asked his companion solemnly, “My good man, just how many did you eat?” He wasn’t too sure he wanted to know the answer to that question, but he needed to be certain that his fellow agent wasn’t in any danger.

It was in that moment that Vuxta came into the room. For a moment, he feared that she would bring with her another medical emergency that needed to be attended to, but was relieved to see that she was just bringing him the bandages he had asked for. Taking the box from her hands, he set it down next to his medical bag, quickly rifling through the contents as he told Vuxta, “Thank you, my dear. I appreciate your help, though I’m afraid I will be needing more of it.” Raising his head from his rummaging to address her more properly, he continued, “I need to tend to Valdarin’s injuries. If you would be so kind as to make sure our good friend Zurgon does not consume anything else that is indigestible, I would be much obliged.”

He turned his attention back to Valdar now, but still kept an ear out for anything Zurgon or Vuxta had to say. Normally, he would give the people around him his undivided attention regardless of what he was doing, but right now, his patient required his services, and as a doctor, he would be remiss if he neglected a patient’s health just for the sake of maintaining a polite conversation.

OOC: Sorry for the delay. There were distractions.


"What are we going to do if we get caught? What's our cover?" Morph whispered. "I don't want to have to hide another body." At this point he was trying to forget his involvement with the event that caused this issue and tried to set sights on the mission. He wanted to reverse the effects of his mistake, thus attempted to be more focused like his companions. He was still capable of preforming well on the field, right?

((OOC: That's alright. :3))

As Syndral worked on unlocking the door, Elim watched the process rather impassively, occasionally tossing a glance over his shoulder to make sure that no one was around to see them. Anyone else might have been creeped out by the mechanical insects who were currently doing their master’s bidding, but the agent was very familiar with his associate’s arsenal of creepy crawlies, and so he was completely unfazed by the wasp that unlocked the door.

What did manage to make him on edge was the presence of someone else already within the school building, as the Motherbot announced to the rest of them. He exhaled a small sigh. While in their line of work additional problems were to be expected, it was always rather bothersome to meet these bumps in the road. Then again, a mission going flawlessly was also rather disconcerting, as it insinuated that an outside influence had knowingly allowed them to complete their mission, and having someone not only know what you’re doing but permit you to do it implied a trap ready to be sprung. If he had to choose between the two, then, Elim supposed he would settle with extra problems they had to deal with.

At Morph’s inquiry, he turned his head to address him more properly, agreeing, “That would be inconvenient.” Lapsing into silence, the agent considered his question for a while, before saying, “I cannot say for certain. There is that detention the two of you are supposed to serve with me, though I doubt that excuse would be applicable at this time of night.”

I do as Plagarius instructs and cringe in pain, unable to make a fist. My hand is most likely broken, but that is not the real problem. The problem is that I am very hurt inside and have been told I have one week before the school board calls a vote for my removal or stay as part of the staff. One week, this substitute has done so much damage already. I am worried that the board will only lessen the time just to spite me. They hate me, calling me irresponsible, pathetic and so much more, but the worst term they use with me is trash, or filth. I have dedicated so much time and effort learning about their ways and customs so that I may better fit in, so that I may instruct the younger generation through physical education. Not only do I teach them sports and exercises, but I come to know them as individuals, learning their strengths and weakness, so that I can help them, overcome any difficulties and even comfort them when they need it. I feel as if the parents and board are pulling me away from "Them." I hope that others will stand to support me when this goes down, maybe if enough fight for me, the school board and parents will have no choice but to keep me. Even better would be that the kids that I teach, coming and standing up for me, for the younger generation to come and say, enough is enough. They are the moving force of change, we can only help them find the courage and desire they need to succeed. The children of this generation will decide the future of tomorrow, or was it something else. Ugh, I don't know. I just heard it from one of the other teachers, or humans that I have had contact with.

The biggest thing that is making me hide my true self is what was called The Days of No Sun, where those that used myself and my people as their tools of war, dictated that after such a bloody galactic conflict and seeing how effective as deadly myself and my people were, that it would be better for the galaxies and people if we were eradicated, exterminated, or however else you want to say it. Fleets of ships invaded our many home worlds, decimating our cities in what could only be described as a hail of hell-fire. As if the burning cities and the dead that lay among the ruins wasn't enough for them, soldiers of various alien races, invaded the planets, slaughtering young and old. The even took babes from their mothers, showing no remorse through the entire campaign that they called The Purge. All my people and myself know or rather knew, as I am the last of my kind, The Kassar. We are now, other than myself a race, only in paper and by mouth, through tales, journals and other literature. However this was not the only side of this conflict. No, not at all. As there were those that wanted us exterminated from the faces of all the Galactic worlds, there were those that were opposed and even appalled by what they called, The Hollow Days, where the land of our home worlds, was soaked with the blood of my people, where the wondrous cities that attracted races from all over the galaxy, where left in smoking ruin. This alliance called themselves, The Shield of Spirit. These races and their empires tried to resist, to stop the bloodshed, even in some cases, waged war with the other side which they called, The Crimson Ring. Most however, after a certain time withdrew from direct confrontation and tried a different approach, launching colony ships to our home worlds, to gather our people and smuggle them to their home worlds where, we would be safe. This however did not last long, many colony ships were lost as The Crimson Ring, intercepted and after torturing discovered their missions, showing no mercy to any and all transports heading to the besieged worlds that were our home. Some races however never gave up and may still wage war with The Crimson Ring, now known as The Galactic Order. The races that make up the alliance against this known evil were once called The Shield of Spirit, but are now known as The Brotherhood of Worlds. I have no reason to fear, I am among friends, allies that would risk life and limb to protect me from the cruel clutches of The Galactic Order, the ones that will forever be known by the rest of the galaxies of worlds as The Betrayers and their campaign, The Crusade of Blood.

"Mmm, I think it is indeed broken. Damn it, I should be more careful and less physical. Wait, hold on a sec... No, that only helps, if I am me. No, this form cannot do that. Damn. Sorry about this my friend, I was careless," I say, apologetically as Plagarius continues to work on my hand.

Vuxta nodded to Plagarius. "Of course." She knew Zurgon was hungry, but she couldn't allow him to eat just anything. She wasn't sure how well his species would handle digesting non consumables, but either way, it couldn't be the best thing for him. What he needed was a nice meal, and apparently a big one.

With a smile, she turned to Zurgon. "Come into the kitchen with me dear and tell me what you'd like to eat, and I'll cook up a nice, big dinner for you." She hoped this dinner wouldn't leave them completely barren on food, but if that was what it took to satisfy Zurgon, then she'd have to do a lot more grocery shopping.



Syndral gave a thoughtful "hmm" as she considered their current situation and what explanation could possibly make sense of it all. She had already thought of the possibility of getting discovered and contemplated ways to get out of such a predicament. However, with being in disguise on a foreign planet and being unfamiliar with normal customs here, it was difficult to think of a sensible explanation.

"That excuse does sound unlikely. While after school detentions may occur, this is most likely too late a time for such a reason to be sensible. We would have to think of something else for a cover, if the need arises." She frowned slightly at the thought. She had already struggled with this and instead planned for an alternative solution.

"Although in the event that it becomes a major issue, I did come prepared. Izvi is highly suitable to this situation. It can keep track of the person's movements and is even capable of putting one to sleep if necessary. While it may not be the most ideal solution, it can be beneficial to us if all else fails, and they should not be able to track the event to us in any way."

Speaking of the little bugbot, Izvi was off on the assigned mission. It flew through the halls at a brisk pace, using its heat vision to locate its target as instructed.

Motherbot was currently tracking Izvi's location and monitoring its movements. She could see everything it saw with her own eyes in a discreet manner that wouldn't be visible to anyone who may be looking at her.

Morph gave a tired sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down the dark hallway. "Well, let's get to it then. Hopefully that kid hasn't woken up yet," he said with finality. He almost walked ahead of them, but decided against it. He didn't want to be the cause of another issue by running into trouble.
At the mention of the bugbot's apparent name, he turned to Syndral in curiosity. Had he been undisguised, his ears would have been perked. That was interesting. She gave her robots individual names? How had he not noticed this before? "Why'd you call it Izvi?" he asked out of impulse. Basing off the importance of practicality to Syndral and her species, he would have expected the names of equipment being indicative of the model. Not... personal.

((OOC: 1.) Sorry for the monster post. 2.) Plagarius is a doctor, but that doesn't mean I am, so if any of you are doctors and are appalled by any mistakes I probably made in this doctoring scenario, then I apologize. ))

Knowing that Vuxta was now taking good care of their younger comrade, the Corvonian could focus his full attention on tending to Valdar’s injuries. Raptor-like eyes watched his patient’s hand attempt to make a partial fist, but to little avail. Mentally taking note of this in his head, the doctor turned to rummage around in his medical bag for a moment before finally retrieving a small medical device, which he now held in his gloved hand almost as one would hold a scalpel. The device’s purpose was far from that of a scalpel, however, and would serve to help in this particular medical emergency.

Turning back to his patient, he listened as Valdar expressed his apologies for the situation. Plagarius merely waved his free hand in dismissal, saying, “Do not fret it, my good man. These sorts of things happen to the best of us. Though I do fear you are indeed correct in your assessment – your hand is most definitely broken. But worry not, it is not that severe. Your hand will be as good as new by tomorrow, I should say.” Pausing in his speech for a moment, he looked up at his companion inquisitively and asked, “You were informed that I am a doctor, yes? I am well trained in areas such as this.” The reason he said this was to ensure that Valdar knew of his expertise in the medical field. He couldn’t be certain how much information the Brotherhood of Worlds had provided Valdar on the people he would be working with, so he had no way of knowing if the man even knew he was a doctor. The Corvonian didn’t want him to think that he was trusting his broken hand with someone who had no medicinal knowledge at all.

Having cleared that up, Plagarius set the device in his hand on the arm of the chair, for its use was not his immediate concern right now. What was his concern was the bleeding from the other man’s knuckles. Rummaging around in his medical bag some more, he retrieved what appeared to be a vial of clear liquid. He dug around a bit more, praying that Zurgon hadn’t eaten all of the cotton balls, until he finally came upon a few. Internally sighing in relief, he set these aside, along with a small syringe, now opting to search through the box Vuxta had given him. He found what appeared to be a sort of gauze, which he gave a nod of satisfaction upon its discovery.

Turning back to his patient, he gently took the man’s forearm with one hand, while he held the cloth-like material in his dominant hand. Slowly, gently, he wrapped his comrade’s hand in the white fabric, some of it immediately becoming stained red, but the blood never soaked through. Securing the gauze in place with some medical tape, he explained, “This will stop any bleeding in your hand, good sir. I will have to undress it at a later time to properly sanitize the cuts, but for the moment, I merely needed to stop the blood flow.” It wasn’t unlike him to explain what he was doing to his patients, unless an injury was excessively gory, in which it was better for the patient to remain unaware of what was happening, if they were even conscious. Part of it was due to his chatty nature, while another part of it was to let his patient know what was going to happen. He found that it put their minds at ease when they were aware of his actions and why he was doing certain things.

Reaching for the vial of liquid and the syringe, the doctor extracted a small dose of the liquid through the needle, which filled a fraction of the syringe’s hollow volume. Once the syringe contained the appropriate dosage, the Corvonian flicked the container a few times to get any air bubbles trapped within the liquid to float to the top closest to the needle, where he then squirted out a tiny amount of the liquid in order to get the air out of the solution. Flicking his eyes up to Valdar, he told him warningly, “This will feel like a pinch for a moment, but it will help to ease the pain.” With that, the doctor hesitated for a moment to ensure that his patient had enough time to prepare himself before he injected the pain reliever into his blood stream. Upon the removal of the needle, a small, crimson orb escaped the tiny hole in his skin before it was gently dabbed away with a cotton ball, another of which was then carefully taped to the site of the injection to prevent any loss of blood.

He then waited for a few moments for the pain reliever to take effect before picking up the small device that had sat unused on the arm of the chair for a small while. The doctor told his patient, “I will need you to keep your hand very still now.” It wasn’t as if Valdar could move his hand much at all right now, but Plagarius felt the need to tell him as such, all the same. Still holding the man’s forearm to steady his arm and keep it still, the Corvonian activated the device he held, which emitted a soft, blue light and made an almost silent humming sound. He passed this device slowly and meticulously over his companion’s injury, which bathed his hand in a blue light. To an observer, it might seem as if the doctor was doing nothing but passing a small light over the injury, but the small device that emitted this blue light was actually mending Valdar’s bones. Any fracture in the bone was slowly being repaired, and any torn tissues were closing back together, as well.

Every now and then Plagarius would adjust the position of his patient’s hand as he ran the device over it, something that no doubt would have been extremely painful if he had not administered the pain reliever beforehand. It was, however, necessary that the Corvonian do this, for he had to make certain that the hand was healing in a correct fashion. If he did this wrong, then Valdar’s hand could heal in a manner that would leave it deformed in the end, and that was unacceptable. So he worked slowly and carefully as a doctor must do, until at last he finally turned off the device and returned it to its place within his medical bag.

Looking over his patient’s hand with a critical eye, he finally nodded once, saying, “Well, good sir, I do believe your hand is no longer broken. I would still recommend getting some ice for it, for the swelling has yet to go down. And, of course, there is the matter of cleaning the cuts properly, but that can wait for a while. I would suggest keeping movement to a minimum with that hand – while it is no longer broken, it is still agitated and rather tender, so it is more susceptible to further damage right now than it will be in a few hours. It would be best if you avoided using that hand entirely for now. The pain reliever has yet to wear off, and while you are unable to feel in that hand, you could harm yourself without even knowing.”

He paused for a moment and, seeming to switch from doctor-mode to normal-mode, he asked kindly, “How are you feeling? Your hand feels much better, I trust? If everything worked the way it should have, I do believe it shouldn’t feel anything at all.”

((OOC: Sorry for the double post, but I actually went over the character limit and had to break it down into two separate posts. D)

Elim glanced in the direction Izvi took off, almost as if he thought if he stared long enough he’d be able to see through the walls and find wherever this lifeform was lurking in the halls. He most certainly couldn’t – even with the assistance of his glasses, which had several technological capabilities of their own – so he was forced to resign to rely on his fellow agent’s insect-like device to track the unknown person’s movements.

Turning back to his comrades, he said reluctantly, “We’ll have to try to keep our distance from the person inside the building and remain out of their sight. That will be our best chance of getting out of here without leaving behind any evidence of our presence here tonight. If we do come in contact with this individual, for whatever reason, we’ll have to take further action then.”

The Order agent hoped that it would be as simple as remaining unseen and unheard by this person within the school walls. If not, then they’d have to appropriately deal with this individual as well, which meant one more person’s memories they had to change. While theoretically they could alter the memories of every individual in town and still get away with it, dealing with targets and interferers in such ways tended to get all tangled up in a great big mess. With each and every person they… dealt with, there was always a slight chance of something escaping their attention, of some form of evidence being left behind of their doings. The more people they had to silence, they greater the risk of them making a mistake, so it was better for them to simply avoid having to take such drastic measures in the first place. Yet so many things could get in the way of a smooth, easy mission, especially…

A thought occurred to him. “Are we certain that the lifeform within the school building is human?” He didn’t have to elaborate further. They all knew what it would mean if this individual wasn’t human, and just how much of a problem that would pose to them.

As Plagarius asks if I knew he was a doctor, I nod and smile. The Brotherhood of Worlds wants to make sure that as a team we know a little about each other so we not only feel comradery with one another but may bond with each other. Still even The Brotherhood doesn't know my secret, though I feel they are hoping that it is true. I don't know about my companions though, if they were involved in the fight, I believe they too hope so.

Still our enemy if am discovered they will want me for themselves. They will put me in a cage and chain me up like an animal, because that is how they viewed us, beasts. We were nothing more than their pets and weapons in their eyes, for them to use as well as do with as they please. We fought for them without complaint as we were not able to think for ourselves after they collared us. The collars brainwashed us to believe we obey and are happy to be what they saw us as. It was not until we escaped those collars that we knew how their promise of wealth for our services was all a lie, a trap to lure us and make us nothing more than their loyal hounds to follow their every command like the dogs we were. We of course knew nothing of this until explorers discovered some the kennels that we were kept in and journals written by our masters.

The treatment of us disgusted many but the journals were all the races had on us and were keep as literature of the age. However many races kept them only for research, for as literature it was offensive. It was not until sometime later that races came to our worlds and began to interact even live among us for a time that the fascination and beauty of our culture was brought to life. Unfortunately very few got to expierence this as in a matter of months we became nothing more than a culture in paper and by mouth.

"Yes, I knew you were a doctor my dear friend and comrade. I feel better physically but emotionally no. It will take some time for me to recover fully. I appreciate your concern and I thank you, for tending to my hand, as well as listening," I reply, smiling a little, but still emotionally broken.

Zurgon was about to answer his doctor friend about how many he'd ingested, which incidentally had been a huge amount and probably about eighty percent of the cotton balls that were in the bag, but before he could he was being summoned to the kitchen by Vuxta and when food was at stake Zurgon could never resist. Zurgon's eyes brightened and grew five times their normal size, there was a sort of twinkle in them, as if he'd opened a box and found the meaning of life. If Zurgon were a cartoon character he would have floated through the air with his long tongue drooping out of his mouth but instead he just ran as fast as he could. Little did Vuxta know that she would indeed be doing more shopping.

Zurgon felt like he should get to know his companion, he didn't know much about her and her kindness intrigued him, her smile made him feel calm. "So," He had hopped up on the counter, his tail on his lap where he was playing with it "I assume there's a reason why you decided to come on this mission, besides the research aspect, you seem like you miss someone, I can sense it in your eyes. Do you have a family back home?" Zurgon had the urge to ask multiple questions before each was answered but he couldnt help his curiosity.

Syndral blinked at Morph's question. She hadn't expected him to ask something so unimportant and unrelated to the mission at hand. "Now really isn't the best time for that." She sighed. "If you must know, then I can explain later. Right now, we have to focus."

She nodded to Elim, knowing full well he was right. That was why she came prepared with her bugbots, especially Izvi. Out of all of them, Izvi the fly was specially designed to be a scout. It was perfect for a mission such as this.

At Elim's question, she paused and grimaced slightly. It was obvious what he meant by that. It could be a member of the Brotherhood. While Syndral was normally prepared for comabt at any given moment, this was a different situation. Any reckless behavior could have them exposed and their mission jeopardized. They couldn't allow that to happen.

Syndral turned to Motherbot. "What's the status on Izvi's location? Do you have a visual of the lifeform?" A visual wouldn't exactly answer their question without a doubt, but it could give them an idea.

Izvi flew down the hallway, approaching the individual that it was assigned to track down. It flew circles around the school janitor, giving Motherbot the opportunity to get a good look at him if she needed it.

"Izvi just located the lifeform. Thermal energy indicates that the lifeform is an average adult. Nothing further can be deducted from that visual alone." Motherbot sent a signal to Izvi for it to change lenses for a clearer visual. Motherbot could now see what the individual actually looked like. "The lifeform now appears to be an adult male in a janitorial uniform."



Vuxta started to hum as she opened up the fridge, using both her arms and tail to grab as much food as she could carry at once. She set everything aside on a part of the counter that Zurgon wasn't currently sitting on. She then got out a big pot and set it down on the stove.

Although she was considered a good cook back home, she wasn't entirely sure what to make with all this Earth food. She hadn't really tried any for herself and didn't know what would work well together. Though she figured that with Zurgon's appetite for apparently anything, a custom homemade stew might be a good place to start. Throwing everything into a single pot was simple enough and saved her the trouble of having to make a full course meal and washing a lot of dishes afterwards.

Vuxta turned on the stove and started putting the meat in first. She wasn't sure if raw meat would actually be bad for Zurgon, but figured it would be better cooked anyway. While that was cooking, her ears perked up at his question and she stopped humming. She hadn't expected to be asked a question like that so soon.

"My goodness, am I that transparent?" She gave a slight chuckle that seemed sort of forced. "Yes, I do, though mostly relatives. They're used to this sort of thing by now, and it's not too terribly difficult being away from them." There was a short pause. She sighed. "It's my husband who I truly miss. Being away from home has gotten harder since I got married."

Morph didn't reply, instead averting his gaze and glaring down the hallway. Way to go, screwing up again. Just shut your **** mouth, and quit being a nuance, he decided, embarrassed at his inquiry. It would be better if he just followed directions and did as he told. He'd already caused enough trouble as it is, he doesn't need to distract his comrades with pointless small talk.


OOC: I know my posts must look laughably small in comparison to everyone else, but I simply don't have a lot to say about Morph. Really only show. I don't want to get too deep into his inner thoughts and personality, because I want people to infer for themselves.

Zurgon's mouth watered at the sight of the pot coming out, he knew it meant food and even though he already devoured those delicious cotton candies he was starving and ready for round two. What people didn't know about Zurgon was that due to his race's love of all things edible they have evolved to gain an almost indestructible digestive system, being able to eat rocks and metals and even teeny tiny cotton balls, though the one flaw was that they all had incredibly fast metabolisms and that meant needing at least seven meals a day, and though Zurgon's planet didn't seem like it would be due to how technological it was, the planet largely focused on crops and farming, what made it easier was that the planet didn't have a winter, well it did but it rarely ever snowed, it was almost always sunny there. On Earth however the weather was always unpredictable, one of the few things Zurgon didn't care for here.

Zurgon snapped his attention away from the food for a moment. "That must be difficult, leaving your family behind...But...But hey! Y'know, in this house, on this planet, we're sort of like a family, right? And that means we're always there for eachother, You're the mom, I'm the incredibly mature father, Plagarius is the spoiled son and that new one can be the dog." Obviously he was joking...Somewhat. "You have a teleportation unit, right? Maybe you and your husband could exchange gifts, make it feel like you're still with him? Just a suggestion." He turned his attention back to the food. "So, is it ready yet?"

((OOC: That's alright, Waaksian. I personally tend to write a lot more for Plagarius than Elim for the same reason: Plagarius is a more open person, so I tend to delve more deeply into his thoughts when I write. Elim is the opposite, being a more private and reserved individual, so I tend not to write too much about him. So I understand completely. :3))


Shaking his head, the doctor told him kindly, “You need not thank me, good sir. It was my duty and my pleasure to help you, both in a medical and emotional sense.” And it was true. As a doctor, it was his obligation to aid in healing any sort of physical wound or affliction. As a member of the Brotherhood, it was also his responsibility to ensure the safety of his comrades. Yet the offering of his services was not strictly out of a sense of duty, but also out of his own willingness and desire to help. Plagarius was a gentle creature who did not like to see anyone in such a wounded state, whether physically or mentally, and so he always endeavored to do whatever he could to lift others of their troubles.

Still knelt in front of the chair in which Valdar sat – for, as a Corvonian, he didn’t see the need to put any distance between them now that his patient’s hand had been tended to – the doctor gently took his comrade’s uninjured hand in his own gloved ones, giving it a light squeeze in reassurance as he began, “Now, tell me, my good man – is there anything I can do for you to alleviate your sorrows?” He had already done all he could for the moment as a physician, but his patient was still clearly injured in the emotional sense. Psychology certainly wasn’t his area of expertise, but he knew that his services were still required, all the same; perhaps not as a doctor, but merely as a friend.

“Perhaps a mug of warm tea?” he suggested, as it wasn’t in his nature to stay quiet for long. “A back rub, perhaps? Those can be very therapeutic, I assure you, and I do happen to be a licensed chiropractor.” His suggestions were probably a bit too medical than what was required to lift his companion’s spirits back up, but Plagarius was a doctor, first and foremost, and so the first solutions he thought of tended to involve his profession in some way.


Doing his best to ignore his fellow agents going back and forth about the reasoning behind the name “Izvi” for one of Syndral’s little bugbots – or, more accurately, why now wasn’t the best time to be discussing such a thing – Elim instead focused on the information that the Motherbot was now giving them. As he had suspected, a visual description of the individual wasn’t of much help, since it could just as easily be a Brotherhood member in disguise as an actual human. Still, they now knew the exact location of this person, alien or human, and that was a critical piece of information they needed in order to ensure the success of their mission.

“Our means of procedure remains the same," he said tersely. “It’s best we avoid this seasbhe unless it’s unavoidable.” He flinched a bit at the intrusion of his native language in his speech. His was a language that was alien and strange even to other extraterrestrials, both Brotherhood and Order alike. Thus, the translator that certain extraterrestrials – himself included – had implanted in their head to filter their own speech into a universally understood one sometimes was unable to interpret what he was saying. Like a dictionary, the translator could distinguish virtually every word in a certain language, but there were some terms that either simply couldn’t be translated, or couldn’t be distinguished right away. It was frustrating out in the rest of the civilized galaxy, but on a mission like this, such a slip-up could prove disastrous in revealing his true nature.

Rubbing his right temple irritably – just over where this translating device was lodged in his brain – he grumbled, “I’ll have to adjust this xlibzeac when we get back.” At the second slip in translations, he sighed, certain that the device was malfunctioning. He only hoped that this problem was fixable and wouldn’t have any long-term effects. That would be most bothersome.

As Plagarius asks me if there is anything he can do to help me, and lists off some possible things, a small smile forms on my face. I do not think I am ready to show myself. The things he mentioned sound nice, so I think I'll try them.

"Tea would be nice and then a back rub. I feel so tense that a massage may be just what I need, to help me relax," I say, smiling at him.

The slip ups in language did not go unnoticed by the Zvarranik. At the first mistake, her head turned sharply out of curiosity and confusion at the word she didn't recognize. Now that her attention had been grabbed, her full focus was on Elim. Syndral's first thought was trying to figure out what this word could possibly mean. Any logical possibility she could think of could be crossed off the list as something she was sure she had heard him say before. So what did this word translate to? Was it just a derogatory term in his native tongue? If it was, now was definitely not the best time to be saying it.

It was the second mistake and surrounding words that really caught her attention. This was definitely not just a slip of the tongue. No, it was something more. Something that aided him with language wasn't working right. "A malfunctioning device?" She asked quietly. At that realization, her hands twitched. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the mission, but knowing that a piece of technology needed to be fixed was a huge distraction for her. She was an Order agent, yes, but an engineer long before that. She couldn't ignore what was practically a natural instinct for her.

Her hands quickly moved to her belt, each one getting out a different kind of tool as she turned towards Elim and stepped towards him. "That is not a problem, I can repair it. This shall only take a moment." She was talking a little faster than usual, and her tone sounded a little more upbeat than it ever did. She could hardly fight the small grin that was forming, and if one looked closely enough they could almost see a certain twinkle in her eyes.

Before Syndral could take another step, Motherbot wrapped an arm around her waist and covered Syndral's mouth with her other hand. She then picked her up and started heading down the hallway. "That was a valiant effort, you lasted a second longer than usual, but it was still a failed attempt. You really need to get your priorities straight. Mission first, engineering later." Motherbot stated in a flat tone.

Syndral slowly put away her tools and folded her arms with a scowl. If her mouth wasn't covered, she'd protest this, even though she actually programmed Motherbot to do this. Syndral was fully aware of her own faults, and knew that broken down technology could easily distract her from a mission. That was why Motherbot was assigned to pull her away from such distractions, even against further orders from Syndral out of protest. She still despised every moment of it, though.



Vuxta couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yes, that's exactly how it is." She was being sarcastic, of course. She would have corrected him, but she liked the joke too much to argue. When she settled down, she thought about what else he had said. "Well, maybe. I guess that could work. I mean, if he wanted to. Maybe if I sent him something, he'd be less upset." She was quiet for a moment as she stirred the meat in the pot and watched it turn brown. "Oh, uh, no, sorry. The meat just finished cooking. I have to put the rest in and cook that now. It won't be much longer, though." She answered. Vuxta then put all the vegetables, noodles, and cheese in and continued stirring.

“Excellent. I will go make a cup of warm tea for you and then see if I can’t loosen up your muscles a little bit,” he chirped. Plagarius seemed very pleased that Valdar didn’t refuse his offers to help relax him. He couldn’t express his satisfaction with a smile like most species could, what with possessing a beak instead of lips, so the bird-like creature expressed his feelings in very different ways. Corvonians, unlike humans, for example, are actually able to control the dilation of their pupils, which they use to express themselves in many different ways. While he had been focused on tending to his patient’s hand, the doctor’s pupils had been smaller than usual, almost raptor-like in their intensity as he was so focused and serious at the time. Now, however, with the medical emergency having been resolved, his pupils had noticeably enlarged, his eyes possessing a softer, more affectionate look in them. This was the way his eyes normally appeared to others, and it signified that he was feeling very content at the moment.

Raising himself into a standing position, he excused himself politely as he went into the kitchen to fetch the materials required for the tea. He cordially greeted both Vuxta and Zurgon as he fished through the cabinets to find a glass and the little box he was looking for. Plagarius waited rather quietly as he heated up a cup of water, which was rather uncharacteristic of him, but was probably due to his fixation on the little box he held in his hands. On his own homeworld, tea was usually made from the use of actual tea leaves. Here in this little box, however, were no leaves, but instead little bags that contained a rather grainy mixture. He personally thought that this was rather odd, but did not say anything on the matter, instead focusing on preparing this cup of tea correctly.

It took a little while longer than what probably would have been deemed normal, but Plagarius eventually returned to stand by the side of the chair in which Valdar sat, offering the steaming cup to him. “I cannot say just what the quality of this tea is, I’m afraid. I have yet to try it myself. I hope you enjoy it, all the same,” he told his companion conversationally. Having handed over the tea, the doctor’s hands were now free to try and ease the tension from his comrade’s shoulders. Moving to stand behind where Valdar sat, he immediately started with his gentle administrations, hoping to relax his patient’s muscles and put his mind at ease.

“I apologize that this terrible misunderstanding came to pass,” he said sympathetically, referring to Valdar’s troubles with the school board. Carefully kneading at the knots in his back, the doctor continued in an inquiring, yet professional tone, “Tell me, are you especially prone to these sorts of outbursts?” Plagarius was very careful asking this question, as it could potentially upset Valdar again, but it was something he needed to know, all the same. He was a doctor, after all, and so his patient’s safety was of the utmost importance to him. Not only that, but they had a mission here on Earth, and he needed to be aware if one of his comrades tended to be emotionally compromised at times.

I accept the tea and take a sip from the cup. The tea isn't great but it is alright. As Plagarius asks the question, some tension is detected. However that passes rather quickly due to my friend and comrade continues to show me such kindness. All of them are, in fact. Pausing for a few minutes, I take the final sip of the tea, before setting it on the nearby table.

"The tea was good, thank you. Though I would take a look at some of the recipes I... Reaching into another pocket, I remove a sheet of paper that has tea recipes from my home worlds as well as others. Some have an Earth equivalant with some small changes. "...have for you and the others. You will find that there is quite a variety. Some may even be from your homeworld and the others. I collected them during my travels, I say as I place it on the table with my empty glass. As for your other question, yes. Due to my personality when something goes wrong, I am the one who gets the blame. The truth is I... Nevermind," I reply, going quiet once again.

Morph instantly looked up upon hearing the leak of foreign language, a little taken aback, but quickly understood where it came from: a malfunctioning translator. How familiar. Last time they had worked together, Elim had been rendered completely unintelligible for a good portion of the mission due to a disturbance that has deactivated all electronics. What were the odds of it acting up as soon as they all saw each other again, he wondered?

But that wasn't the only thing that reminded him of their last job. Syndral's apparent attempt to abstain from something didn't fail to grab Morph's attention, and he quickly realized what that "something" was. By the time functionality had returned, Syndral essentially demanded that every single electronic was in perfect working condition. She had worked tirelessly, making sure that no damage had been suffered in their lack of use, and Morph had finally realized just what "top tier engineer" meant.

So it came as to no surprise when she finally caved in, and, as if she had done this many, many times before, assembled her gear and stepped up to the task. Morph couldn't help but grin widely in amusement, his undivided attention now on her. The glimmer in her eyes, the bounciness in her tone, the confident grin. Oh, it had been so long since he had seen that side of her, and when he had it was so fleeting in comparison to the majority of their time spent together. It was just so charming, seeing her light up like this.

Motherbot's interception of Syndral's plans caught him completely off guard, and barely managed to stifle himself before bursting out laughing. He did, however, accidentally let out muffled snort, one almost loud enough to jeopardize their stealth. He cleared his throat demurely. "Let's move on," he said quickly, wanting to get this over with without any more distractions. He couldn't deny that he felt better after that entertaining happening, though.

The Corvonian bowed his head slightly in return to Valdar’s words of thanks, even though he knew the man couldn’t see the gesture from where he sat with Plagarius behind him. Not pausing in his administrations, he told his companion, “I am glad. I always find that a warm cup of tea is very soothing, myself.”

As the other Brotherhood agent went on about the list of tea recipes he had compiled, the doctor peered over Valdar’s shoulder – kneading at the man’s muscles all the while – inquisitively looking at the paper he had retrieved from his pocket. He couldn’t get a good look at its contents from where he stood, but he was resolved to read over the document when he had a chance. Straightening back up into his previous position, the bird-like creature replied, “Oh! that is very thoughtful of you. I can assure you that I will indeed be interested in reading over them, and I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind sampling a few different brews.” Plagarius was a man who was very fond of tea. Indeed, he was rather excited to try out Earth’s various types while they were on their mission here. So Valdar’s collection of tea recipes was definitely something he was going to look over. Perhaps their other comrades would enjoy tasting a few of the different drinks, as well.

A thought occurring to him, the Corvonian added humorously, “I am most certain that Zurgon wouldn’t mind trying a few cups of tea. The poor thing seems to have an awful appetite. He ate a considerable amount of my cotton balls, you know.” It was funnier looking back on it now than it had been when he first learned of Zurgon’s consumption of his materials. He would have to ask his dear comrade just how his metabolism would handle such a feast – for while Plagarius was a doctor, it was impossible to know every trait about every different species off the top of his head. For all he knew, cotton balls were part of Zurgon’s species’ regular diet. He supposed now that his initial startled reaction about the situation had been an overreaction, which he was glad for.

He was brought out of these thoughts, however, when Valdar went on to answer his earlier inquiry. The doctor’s gloved hands paused for a moment, before slowly continuing their administrations. Valdar seemed far too self-accusatory in his answer, which simply would not do. Stopping altogether in massaging the other’s shoulders and leaning closer to speak directly into his ear to ensure he had his full attention, Plagarius began softly, “It was never my intention to place any blame. I am not criticizing you, my good fellow. It is simply my duty as a doctor to ensure your well-being, and as such, I need to know as much as I can if I am to be of any assistance to you in the future.” Pausing for a moment, the doctor then asked quietly, “Do you understand, good sir?”


When his translator had malfunctioned those two times, Elim hadn’t expected much of a reaction from his comrades. He thought he’d get some strange looks, maybe an offhand comment about how he’d definitely need to fix that when they returned from their mission. What he had not been expecting was for Syndral to suddenly take a particular interest in the malfunction. At first, he thought that perhaps she would chastise him for allowing such a slip-up in his translator to occur, for certainly it would have been disastrous if this had happened during the school day with several human – or Brotherhood – witnesses. He expected to have to assert that this didn’t happen often, and that this problem couldn’t be blamed entirely on him, but also just the structure of the sometimes faulty device.

What he didn't expect was for this interest from Syndral to manifest as a compulsive need to fix the malfunctioning device. He was a little perturbed at first by the way his comrade was advancing on him with those tools in hand. Though he had worked with Syndral before, he had never worked with her as closely as she and Morph had together, so while Morph knew exactly what was going on in the Zvarranik’s mind, Elim didn’t have the slightest idea until she spoke up again and it finally dawned on him. She wanted to fix this… now? He was about to protest that now wasn’t the best time, that they were on a mission here, when Motherbot effectively put a stop to Syndral’s actions.

He watched, with a rather bewildered expression on his usually blank face, as the robot started carrying her away and into the school building. At Morph’s amused snort, he shot his comrade a thoroughly unamused look before eventually nodding in agreement with his words, slipping into the building after Syndral and Motherbot.

//sorry for short post just couldnt think of much ahh//

Zurgon watched as Vuxta made the food, he couldn't take his mind off of it, he wanted to form a conversation of some sort but his stomach was grumbling like crazy and he needed some sustenance. "I haven't really had much earth food, what exactly is this? The metal bowl looks really tasty, am I supposed to eat that? I'm sure I could, I'm hungry enough." He licked his lips and began to kick his legs back and forth in anticipation

Motherbot paused for a moment. "Now if you can stay focused, I'll put you down." She stated quietly. She waited a moment to see how Syndral would respond.

Syndral sighed and relaxed her arms. She didn't like having to ignore technology, but there were more important matters at hand. Her behavior could get them caught if she wasn't careful.

Since the Zvarranik seemed to have calmed down, Motherbot let her go. "Good." She told her. Motherbot went back to focusing on the janitor's location. Izvi was still flying around him, keeping an eye on him.

Syndral quickly and quietly headed towards Mr. Locklear's classroom. She didn't have to be too watchful, since her horns would tell her if anyone was around. So far, she could only sense the location of Elim and Morph. Her horns didn't have enough range in order to check the entire school. She would have to get close enough to the janitor in order to sense him.

Motherbot followed closely behind Syndral, while still keeping an eye on the janitor. Her sensors weren't as limited, and with Izvi's help, she could be fully aware of the janitor's location at all times. Her main job now was to keep track of him and make sure Syndral didn't go down a bad path. They would have to be careful not to run into him.



Vuxta continued stirring the food, watching it closely. It was hard to tell with Earth food, since she was unfamiliar with it, but it seemed about done. "Oh, it's stew. It's not anything in particular, more so a mix of different ingredients. Stew is a great dish because you can change it up and make it anything you want. In this one, I put meat, I think they call it beef, an assortment of vegetables, noodles, and I believe a variety of cheese they call cheddar. I'm not exactly sure how it will taste myself, but I hope it will be good."

Through her explanation, she had almost missed Zurgon's comment about the metal bowl. Her eyes widened and she looked at him with a concerned expression. "You want to eat the pot?" She shook her head. "No, dear, the pot isn't for eating. This metal bowl simply holds the food for you. It's not meant to be eaten."

Admittedly, Vuxta didn't really know what was and wasn't safe for Zurgon to eat. She didn't know enough about his species or Earth food to make calls like that. She just hoped he wouldn't end up eating anything dangerous for him. Although it was a relief knowing Plagarius would be around in case such an event were to happen.

With a sigh, Vuxta turned off the stove. She opened the drawer, pulling out an oven mitt. She took the pot off the stove and placed it on the counter on top of the oven mitt and next to Zurgon. "Okay, I think it's ready. Careful now, it's hot." She warned him. Vuxta then went to get a metal spoon and placed it in the pot. "Now don't eat my spoon either, or my oven mitt. They're tools, not food." It felt strange having to say things like that, but she really didn't want him eating non-consumables.

"I understand, Plagarius. I never thought you were, my friend. I meant that I am the one who gets the blame. My solitary nature makes people suspicious and thus think I am up to no good. Most are either afraid of me, or avoid me. This happens most of the time, it is rather an exception when I become friends with another. If only they knew the truth..."

The truth is no one but me knows it. I'm too scared to reveal myself, to anyone. Last of a believed to be extinct race, I do not want to be harvested and enslaved by The Galactic Order, no more than their pet and war hound, collared, chained up and caged like a wild animal. What will it take for me to feel safe enough to reveal my true self? Only time will tell.

Zurgon hoped off the counter, filled with anticipation, however he did feel horrid that he had made Vuxta take time out of her day to make him a meal that he'd devour so fast that he'd immediately want something else to quench his thirst for all that was edible.

As Zurgon watched Vuxta complete her cooking he couldn't help but feel bad, he wanted to do something for her in return for it was only fair since she did him such a favor. So Zurgon, in rare fashion, ignored the food and instead of delving head first into the pot he looked towards Vuxta and spoke. "Thanks for the food, I don't really know what I'd do without someone like you here, probably starve or eat something I shouldn't." He said, ironically burping up a bit of cotton. "Is there anything I can help you with? Y'know maybe around the house or just in general, I'll do it so good!"

The doctor carefully resumed his administrations, thinking over Valdar’s words all the while. His new companion seemed like a troubled individual from what he had told him just now. Plagarius had thought that perhaps his previous outburst had been an isolated incident, something that had happened due to unusual circumstances on this strange and foreign planet. It seemed, however, that his fellow Brotherhood agent had problems that extended to his life outside of his missions. The doctor by no means ever claimed to be a psychologist, but it was his desire to help people, and so he would try to do so even if it was outside his area of expertise. Besides, perhaps what Valdar needed was not a counselor, but a friend willing to lend an open ear.

“I do not claim to know how other people interact with you,” the Corvonian admitted. “But I do know that you are welcome here with open arms. I, as well as the others, do not regard you with any suspicion or mistrust, my friend, so I can assure you that you will be treated kindly here with us.”

As he finished, Plagarius idly wondered why people would think so poorly of his dear comrade. Valdar seemed like a kind, polite individual, and while it was true that he apparently had some issues in handling his anger at times, the doctor thought that he was a nice person overall from what he’d seen of him so far. Some might say that, as a Corvonian, he might be giving more credit than what was due, what with his species’ tendency to be very forgiving and blind to any misdeed against them, and this could very easily be the case. Plagarius, however, was not the only one who had interacted with Valdar as of late. Both Vuxta and Zurgon had also been in his presence and didn’t seem to mind the man in the slightest. So with their entire group having taken a liking to him – or at least, a tolerance – then it was unlikely that Plagarius’s judgement was too obscured by his own forgiving nature.

So what was it then that made other people so cautious and fearful in Valdar’s presence? The doctor didn’t pretend to understand at this time, though he did wonder if perhaps there was a side of his newest companion that he had yet to see. Or, perhaps, the others who had encountered Valdar before had simply been cruel in their judgments. That was a possibility that made Plagarius feel uneasy, for why would anyone ever treat the man in such a way? He didn’t have the slightest idea as to why, nor did he have the means of finding out. With this logic, the bird-man merely pushed the questions into the back of his mind. It really wasn’t his business to pry into Valdar’s private life, and right now, the doctor instead felt the need to focus on lifting his comrade’s spirits back up.

“I believe the food should be nearly done by now,” the Corvonian told him. “Come, won’t you join us for dinner? We would love to have you.”

"Of course, Plagarius, I will join you for dinner, my friend. It smells good, from here. I bet it will taste as good as well. Thank you for all your kindness, all of you. I rarely am treated so nicely by others," I say before going quiet again.

Unknown to Plagarius and the others is my people were and I am a proud race. Due to how most view and treat us, our emotions are far stronger than any other races. Respect is always a must lest you offend a Kassar, to be taught to respect them the hard way. Now this was common for a time, itstill can occur, but less likely with something called The Equalizer. To the viewer it looks like nothing more than an elegant warriorheadband, but it is much more. What it does is it stimulates the brain to try and create a healthy balance of one's emotions. Unfortunately when we were tricked and brainwashed to fight for The Galactic Order they were taken from us. Any others are lost within the ruins of what were once my homeworlds. Without it my very stong emotions will be hard to contain and control, even for one as strong as myself.

"Wonderful," the Corvonian said, glad that Valdar had calmed down enough and was comfortable enough to have dinner with them. "Though I cannot take credit for the cooking, myself. Indeed, you have our dearest companion Vuxta to thank for that. I do agree that the smell is quite good; I was not aware that our comrade was such an accomplished chef." He said this last part mostly to himself, seemingly processing this new bit of information about his coworker.

Plagarius quickly shook himself out of his thoughts and instead walked around to the front of the chair so that he could address Valdar more properly, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Shall we?" he inquired politely.

Though he hadn't responded to Valdar's last comment, the doctor had taken into account his claim that he wasn't usually treated so well. This disturbed Plagarius a bit, and once again, he was left wondering where Valdar had come from to have been treated so poorly. It was a bit unusual for the bird-like creature to keep his thoughts to himself and refrain from asking any questions that were on his mind, but this was one of the very few scenarios in which he managed to keep his excessively social nature in check.

Plagarius was a doctor, first and foremost, and being a doctor came before being a chatty, prying Corvonian. And right now, this doctor was concerned about his patient's feelings of safety and comfort. He didn't want to bring up any subject that would make his comrade uneasy, and so, while the Corvonian part of him wanted to talk about this at length with his friend, the doctor in him knew rationally that this was probably something that should be left alone, for now, at the very least. While in virtually any other situation the social Corvonian side of him would have won out, the doctor in him was the most dominant part of his decision-making when it came to his patients. When this doctor persona was not required of him, however, the social persona which most people come to associate Plagarius with takes complete charge until the doctor is required again.

I smile and nod, following Plagarius to dinner. I am glad to be with these people, but still I can't help but be concerned for them. I am very disliked by a majority of the people in the community, what will happen to them if they are seen with me? I don't want them to have to live like I do, just for the sake of friendship. They are different than me, so maybe they will be okay. Ugh, I don't want to think about that right now, I just want to enjoy the dinner, Vutxa made and enjoy the time I am here, until I have to return to the cruel, heartless community where I live. I live in an underground den, beneath my original home, which has been vandalized with racist comments, foul language, insults and even threats.

When Zurgon ignored the food, Vuxta frowned slightly out of concern. She worried that there was something wrong with it. While she was normally considered a good cook, she was unfamiliar with Earth food and was afraid she had ruined it beyond consumption. If it was no good, she'd have to throw it out, which would be a waste. Then she'd have to make more and risk ruining that as well.

Vuxta was about to ask what was wrong, when Zurgon spoke up. She was pleasantly surprised, and was glad nothing was wrong. She couldn't help but smile at his kind words, and she chuckled softly at the irony that happened after. At least the cotton balls didn't seem hazardous to him. That was a relief.

"Oh, you don't have to thank me, dear. It was my pleasure. I enjoy cooking. And I'm just looking out for your health. I may not be a doctor, but I still don't want you getting sick." Vuxta started to say that he didn't have to do anything, or that she'd just take care of everything herself, but then she remembered that they never finished unpacking everything. "Hmm, well, if you really want to help, there's still unpacking left to do. I'm sure you'll do a good job with that, if you don't mind, but only after dinner. You really should eat something first."

At the thought of dinner, Vuxta wondered if she had made enough. Zurgon seemed to have a rather big appetite, and there was no telling how much Plagarius and Valdar ate. If they were all particularly hungry, there might not be enough to satisfy all of them. Vuxta worried that cooking and keeping a fresh stock of food might end up being a full time job by itself. She certainly seemed to have her work cut out for her with everything she had to take care of. With a thoughtful far-off look, she started making a mental list of everything she needed to do and when would be the best time to take care of it.

Morph seemed to ashamedly shrink ever so slightly at Elim's disapproving look. However, the little scenario was satisfying to him, and somewhat raised his spirits. It was such a delight to have witnessed that brief window of unrestrained passion from Syndral again, and seeing her actually-- he dare say-- pout about it, was the cream of the crop. Too bad he didn't have someone like Motherbot to keep him from doing ridiculous things, except for... well, there was no way he would be anywhere near this solar system. Probably for the best.

Following the two, he kept aware of his surroundings and prepared himself to assist his comrades in any way they needed.

((OOC: I finally gave a name to Elim's species - Targibbons. :3))

The Corvonian led Valdar into the kitchen. Anyone else probably would have simply walked into the room knowing that the other person was following behind, but Plagarius, it seemed, felt the need to take his comrade gently by the elbow and walk at his side until they reached the kitchen. It wasn't as if he thought his newest companion would get lost or the like; it was simply in his species' nature to engage in physical contact whenever they had the opportunity. It probably seemed strange to anyone of another species, but to the bird-like creature, it was perfectly normal behavior to take someone by the hand or arm to lead them even such a short distance away as this.

Only when they reached the inside of the kitchen did Plagarius let go of Valdar's arm, though not because he felt it necessary to disengage in physical contact, but rather, in order to have free use of his hands now. Corvonians were very expressive people in every sense of the word. They were not only very chatty, but they used their hands to speak just as much as they used their words. They would often constantly make certain gestures as they spoke, and as the doctor was starting to speak up right now, he wanted to be able to use his hands to communicate. If he had chosen to remain silent - though this possibility was extremely unlikely, given his social nature - then he probably wouldn't have relinquished his hold on Valdar's arm, for he wouldn't have seen the need to do so, not having as great a sense of personal space as those of other species did.

"I hope we haven't kept you waiting," he told Vuxta and Zurgon, giving them each a small bow of his head, his hands clasped together in front of him.


The Targibbon quickly yet quietly made his way to his alias's classroom door. They wouldn't have to use any sort of extraterrestrial device to enter this room, for Elim possessed the key that would unlock this human-made door. Taking a key ring - from which many keys of slightly different shapes and sizes were assembled - from his pocket, he seemed to glare at every individual key until he finally found the correct one. Why humans couldn't develop an easier, much more efficient way of storing and distinguishing their keys from one another was beyond the alien imposter.

Shaking these thoughts from his head and instead focusing on the task they needed to complete, the Order agent unlocked the door to his classroom. Stepping inside and seeing that everything was still - though he supposed either Motherbot or Syndral would have been the first ones to know if anything had been amiss within the room - he beckoned his fellow agents to come inside. It was probably safer within the confines of the room instead of out in the open hallway where they could potentially be seen.

Not bothering waiting to see if they had complied, the pseudo-teacher meticulously picked through the keys on his key ring. Every once in a while he would try one to fit the lock on his storage closet, before having to repeat the process with another key. Honestly, who in their right mind would make all of the keys look so similar to one another when they all clearly only functioned properly for one specific lock? He didn't allow himself to contemplate this conundrum long, for Elim was intent on getting this little mission over with quickly and smoothly, and he needed his concentration to do that.

Finally, one of the keys worked - which the Targibbon stared at afterwards for a good period of time as if trying to imprint the key's shape in his mind to more easily identify it for future use - and the Order agent opened the storage closet. Seeing that the student they were after was both still there and still having yet to awaken, Elim said quietly, "The boy is still unconscious. Getting him out of here will be simple enough, but we must not be seen by anyone."

Zurgon gave a large smile that seemed to almost twinkle in the bright light emitting from the ceiling in the kitchen. "I'm real good at unpacking stuff, and if there's any bugs or anything that got in the boxes I can just eat em, it's a win/win." Zurgon then turned his attention to his friends that had just walked into the kitchen. "Look at us, one big happy fake family who are actually aliens posing as humans to gain intel so we can further our peace with the inhabitants of Earth." Zurgon smiled widely once more, a wider smile than anyone could probably envision. "So, we eating or what?"

Vuxta was pulled out of her thoughts, and she gave Zurgon a somewhat concerned look. She appreciated his help, but was worried about him eating any bugs he may find. She didn't know if bugs were naturally a part of his species' diet, or if Earth bugs were even safe for him to eat. She guessed it could be okay, especially since he seemed resilient enough to safely eat nearly anything. Still, she wondered what was safe for him, as she didn't want him getting sick. Although the thought of bugs did make her hungry. Now she wondered if she could eat Earth bugs safely. She was curious to see if they tasted as good as the ones back home.

As Plagarius and Valdar came in, Vuxta turned her attention to them. She acknowledged them with a gentle smile and nod of her head. Her smile widened at Zurgon and she chuckled softly. She was happy to be working with her companions. They would make this mission more enjoyable and keep her spirits up. "Yes, go ahead and eat. Please enjoy yourselves. I hope I made enough for everyone. If not, I can always cook more."



Syndral and Motherbot quickly followed Elim into the classroom. Motherbot simply stood by and kept an eye on the janitor, while Syndral waited in anticipation for Elim to get the closet unlocked. She watched with a focused gaze, taking note of how idiotic and inferior the humans' locking system was. She was tempted to get her waspbot back out, when Elim finally opened up the closet.

Syndral nodded in understanding to Elim and then glanced at Motherbot. The robot walked over to the boy and picked him up, carrying him bridal style. Once she had him, Syndral headed to the door. She checked the hallway to see if it was clear, and then headed out. Motherbot quickly followed behind her. Izvi was still keeping an eye on the janitor.

Plagarius twittered in laughter at Zurgon's statement and his big, goofy smile. The Corvonian wasn't capable of much facial expression himself what with his inflexible beak, so it always made him feel very merry to see such looks on others' faces. Quieting down from his fit of twittering - which was the human equivalent of laughter - the doctor agreed quite cheerfully, "Yes, it would certainly seem we are."

He was very happy at that moment. The general state of being content or happy was not at all unusual for a Corvonian, but Plagarius was, at the very moment, especially happy. Zurgon's statement had been quite amusing, but it was more than that to him. They were all together here, laughing and soon to be sharing a meal. In the bird-like creature's eyes, they truly were a family, and that was something that warmed his heart very much so. It was good for them to all be together in this strange new world.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he addressed Vuxta now, saying appreciatively, "You certainly have our thanks for the meal. Though I cannot say the same for Zurgon, perhaps, I myself do not require much to eat." And it was true. Corvonians really didn't need to eat very much at all to sustain themselves. Even so, eating periods could potentially last hours, though this was hardly due to how much they actually consumed. For Corvonians, eating times were just as much, if not more, for socialization as for actually consuming food. It was for this reason that dining tended to take so long in the doctor's society, for there was little actual eating happening, but instead, lots and lots of talking.

Zurgon took the large pot that the food had been cooked in, it smelled amazing. It was as if fate brought them together, Zurgon loved to eat and Vuxta could cook, and to Zurgon, if Vuxta hadn't been married he probably would've proposed on the spot, because food was like an artificial god to Zurgon, his people loved food, although "food" was sort of a broad terminology on Zurgon's planet, his kind didn't so much love food as they loved anything edible and that they could digest, except tomatoes, Zurgon hated tomatoes.

Zurgon rushed towards the dinner table, on his planet Zurgon lived alone and would often eat at the desk in his room or by the television, but considering this was his first meal with his new companions he'd make the exception, he didn't want to be rude. And speaking of not wanting to be rude Zurgon was holding back as best as he could to not devour the entire stew, obviously he'd still be hungry afterwards but this dinner was more of a celebratory christening of the new S.S. Friendship.

Most likely to the surprize of my companion and comrade, Plagarius, I not only relax when he takes me by the arm, gently leading me to the dinner table; I enjoy it. I do not feel uncomfortable or overwelmed at all, instead I feel as if this is normal. As Vuxta says for us to go ahead and eat, I hand my bowl to Plagarius.

"Would you please serve me some stew? I do not want to agitate my hand. Also, I noticed that you seem nervous about being yourself, as in getting up close and personal with others. Please be yourself with me. When you took me by the arm and led me to the dinner table, I felt relaxed as well as safe, more than I ever have been. I don't know why this is but... Standing up, I walk over and embrace him tightly. Thank you, Plagarius. Thank You," I reply with my arms wrapped around him and tears streaming down my cheeks.

They do not yet know the truth, otherwise Plagarius, would be embracing me tightly, tighter than ever before. Actually all of them probably be doing it. All of them would find a deep, newfound hatred for our enemy, The Galactic Order, they never knew they had, or never did have, once they have learned of, The Days With No Sun. Still I have no idea when I will feel safe enough to gather the courage to make such a big step. Perhaps they can help me get there? Together as comrades, friends and family, the truth will come.

I'll change her age and name and everything.

She is more of a high schooler now.

When Valdar asked him to get him some stew, the doctor took the bowl from his hands and nodded once obligingly. He was glad that his patient was being considerate of his still healing hand. Plagarius has dealt with others before in the past, on multiple occasions, who simply seemed unable to adjust their usual activities in order to prevent further upsetting their injuries. These instances were rather disheartening for a doctor, who wanted only for their patients to recover from their wounds or trauma. So Valdar being especially careful with his hand and even refraining from using it at all was something that the physician greatly approved of.

Plagarius was just reaching for the ladle to scoop out some of the stew into his companion's bowl when Valdar's continued speech stopped him. Lowering his hand from its previously raised position over the ladle, he took a moment to ponder over his comrade's words. It was true, in a sense. Ever since he had left his homeworld - which was many years before now - the Corvonian has had to learn to adjust to other species' cultures. What was normal on his planet was either a bit awkward or just downright unacceptable in the rest of the galaxy. Thus, he has had to keep himself in check, so as not to unintentionally discomfort or offend any of his associates whose cultures were so different from his own.

In truth, however, Plagarius wasn't doing too well in this regard; he still tended to get too close or use too much physical contact than necessary. It was extremely difficult to simply cease certain behaviors that had been taught to him since his hatching, and thus, the Corvonian was still a rather odd bird around those of other species. Still, apparently he had managed some degree of success in repressing his more social impulses, or had at least made it apparent that he was trying, for Valdar had taken notice that he hasn't quite been completely himself. His companion also seemed rather distraught that he wasn't acting as one of his species usually would to the fullest extent, and even expressed that he rather liked it when the doctor slipped up and let his more Corvonian nature show through.

Plagarius was rather touched by this, and was glad that he had made his comrade feel safe with him. He was about to respond in some way when Valdar chose that moment to walk up to him and embrace him tightly. For a moment, the doctor seemed to be a bit puzzled by his companion's actions, but he was quick to return the embrace, nevertheless. Setting down the bowl he held in his hand on the table, he then wrapped his arms almost protectively around his companion, taking him in a hold that was as if his friend had been enveloped in a pair of large, warm wings.

The doctor merely held him like this for some time, not letting go until Valdar chose to do so. His heart was occupied with mixed feelings right now. He was devastated that his dear comrade regarded his simple acts of kindness like precious droplets of water in a harsh desert landscape, treating them as though they were rare and hard to come by. On the other hand, he was glad that he could be there for his companion. He did not pretend to understand the extent of his newest friend's troubles, but he knew for certain that he was going to offer his support in whatever way he could. It was the least he could do. The doctor rubbed slow, gentle circles over his companion's back, trying to calm his friend as best as he could.

At some point Plagarius had started cooing softly, a soft, continuous sound that reverberated in his chest like a cat's purr. Corvonians tended to do this with one's parents or children, or, in this case, when expressing a great deal of affection and comfort. And it was a comforting sound, the sort that could probably coax even the most ferocious of creatures into a deep sleep.

After some time of being uncharacteristically quiet, the doctor finally spoke up, saying softly, "It is for the best that I keep from being as sociable as I would like. I would surely become unbearable if I did so." And it was true. Everyone had at least some need for privacy or time alone, but Corvonians did not, and so, they were often perceived as overbearing to even the most sociable of people. Tilting his head slightly to one side in a very bird-like manner, Plagarius continued, "I will, however, make an exception to you, if that is what you wish." He wanted his companion to feel as safe and comfortable as possible, and if being his normal self was the best way to achieve that, then the doctor would most certainly do so.

Shaking his head and patting Valdar's back a few times, he told him, "You need not thank me. You need not thank me at all."

((OOC: @Pokemon2: Well, 20 is a bit too old for a high school student, unless she's been held back a few times. And I'm assuming she's a human? Also, what grade is she in? I need some more details, if you please. :3))

Vuxta gave a warm smile and nod to Plagarius's thanks. Appreciation wasn't needed, but it was certainly welcome. She was glad to cook for them regardless. She always cooked for her family back home, and often got praise for how good it tasted, especially from her husband. Although she always wondered if her food was actually good, or if they were too nice to say otherwise. Plus, with her husband's appetite, she figured he would have eaten nearly anything she made. Since she was now cooking with foreign ingredients, Vuxta really hoped her companions would like her cooking.

Valdar's words caught her attention. She was somewhat surprised that he was observant enough to notice Plagarius's behavior, and more so surprised that the Corvonian had managed to show restraint. She had been around Plagarius enough to know he struggled with giving others enough space, and it was something she felt the need to help him with.

However, Valdar apparently didn't mind and seemed to enjoy it. Vuxta wondered if he fully understood what he was requesting. She enjoyed the Corvonian's company, but even she had her limits. She was more accepting of it than most probably would be, at least that was her guess, but she still liked some degree of space. Vuxta was willing to comply and have Plagarius be particularly close if that was what he needed to be happy, especially if he felt he wasn't getting enough affection from others, since not everyone could handle how friendly he could really be. So she wondered how much Valdar could really handle. She worried that he may regret his decision, or Plagarius would take a step backwards and forget what little sense of personal space he had.

"I would like that very much, my friend. I wish you all could know... Its hard to do this to you all but... I begin to tremble. I'm scared," I say swallowing.