sunnydalealum | (no subject)

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It's a bigger room, this time. The better to fit two dozen zhirelin in addition to the sorcerers themselves.

The conference room setup this time is much hastier, at Emma's orders. The table's been upended against the wall instead of removed entirely; the blood in the spell diagram is still tacky. Everything's in place, including the two most vital components: the real Kshaartian mandrake, and the Scythe.

Emma's trying hard not to pace as the two red-robed apprentices bend to light the first candles, as the priests in their darker robes begin chanting.

We're in the homestretch. Go. Go. Go.

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That level look again from the blonde. "All right," she says finally. "We're gonna sweep the lower levels. You stay with Amy and Juliet, and don't engage anyone until they've identified them as hostiles."

A beat.

"You know how to use that thing?" And it's not so much challenge as it is ... well, something perilously close to envy.

"Yeah," Mel says and draws it out with the ease of someone who knows her weapon intimately. There's a note of pride and a lot of fondness in her voice, none of which is faked.

"We're old friends."

They're all looking at it now.

Until the blonde breaks the haze by saying sharply "All right, let's move out. Erica, pick your team --"

A few busy moments, and then Erica's heading for the front elevators with eight or nine of the zhirelin following her, and Brianna's leading the rest toward the back elevators.

"We'll split up into smaller groups as we work our way down," she says, "and report back on whatever we find. Or don't find. If there's nothing by the time we get to the subbasement ... I should probably go have a word with Levinson."

Mel shrugs, and slides the weapon home, playing up the satisfaction of havin a weapon she was born to use safe against her back.

"Who's Levinson?" she asks with casual curiosity.

The blonde's eyes flick toward her. "Never mind."

A beat.

"You got a name?"

"Yeah."

Bright, friendly smile, accompanied with an extended hand.

"Melaka Fray."

Aliases are for losers.

"Brianna Walden."

She takes the hand in a quick clasp, squeezing maybe a touch harder than necessary, and lets go.

"And you're with the Cleveland branch?"

"Yeah," Mel agrees.

"Well, this week I am. I'm mostly freelance."

"How's that working out for you?"

It's perfunctory. Brianna's paying a great deal more attention to the elevator button, which is refusing to light.

Mel's not really interested in Brianna anyway, though she appears to be. She's trying to keep tabs on the reactions of the others.

"Great," she says, swallowing back her slang. "Nothing like being my own boss. Means I get to pick and choose my jobs, and no one's telling me what I should be... hey, why are we standing here anyway? Where's the stairwell?"

The prevailing mood among the others is an odd mix of excitement and boredom; only a few seem to be genuinely expecting trouble. Brianna's one of them.

That other one, the one who trailed behind on the way out -- she's gone, and no one seems to have noticed that she slipped away.

"Long walk down," says one of them dubiously.

"If something's wrong with the elevators, we don't have a choice." Brianna turns on her heel and heads for a door at the far end of the elevator bank.

"Walk?"

Mel glances over her shoulder in surprise at the girl who spoke.

"I thought you guys were like me?"

Walk down stairs indeed.

Blank stare from the girl she addressed.

Brianna's eyes narrow further. "How would you get down -- fly?"

Mel tilts her head and rases an eyebrow at Brianna.

The answer a few months ago would be 'yes', but her skaterug was destroyed in Bahamut and she's still annoyed about it.

"No," she says, opening the door into the starwell, "but I sure as hell ain't wasting my time walking down stairs.

She grabs the stairrail with one hand and flips herself over neatly, balancing for an instant in a one-handstand before following through and dropping down the centre of the stairwell to the next floor, where she catches the railing with the next to sit on the railing and call up,

"Hey, did you want to leave people on each floor or are we heading down?""

Brianna mutters something about show-off and then raises her voice. "Wait there, we're coming down."

To Juliet and Amy: "Stay on her."

Mel leans back into the stairwell, peering up and waiting.

And mostly trying to see which other Slayers will take the fun route.

None of them do, in the face of Brianna's obvious disapproval.

Amy does cast a faintly wistful glance over the railing as they come down, though; one can almost hear her thinking that maybe she'll try it later, once they've split off.

Mel by this time, is whistling softly. By the time the group arrive, she's fairly ignoring Brianna, and instead winks at Amy.

"So where are we heading?"

"The lower levels," Brianna says curtly, rounding the switchback on the landing without a pause. "You three take the fourth floor to start with, and work your way down."

Amy looks at the stairwell again, and glances at Mel half-apologetically. "Come on," is all she says, before starting down the stairs with the rest of them.

Mel rolls her eyes, and leans back in order to count the five levels to the fourth.

Then she just leans back further and throws herself off apparently randomly.

The trick, she knows, is to use every obstacle you can, which in this case is jsut the railings. But she drops from railing to railing, pushing herself down from each and really enjoying herself.

She's flush with adrenaline in the few seconds it takes to reach the fourth, and waits patiently, adjusting the fit of her scythe's sheath.

A few seconds later, there's a yelp as Amy falls past, grabs for the fourth-floor railing, and misses.

She catches the next one, and has to jog back up half a flight of stairs.

Mel is not laughing.

But she's not laughing in a friendly manner.

"Close," she allows happily.

"I need practice," she says, a little glumly.

Juliet reaches the fourth-floor landing, and gives Amy a withering look.

Mel grins in Juliet's direction, but she really smiles at Amy.

"At least it'sa fun thing to practise? 'Kay, let's check this floor out, and hope there's something to actually do."

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