<font color='#FF0000'>Current Date Quarter: Tria Day: 41 Year: 81377 Deep within the ruined city, a 'dragon stirred, awakening from a satisfying slumber upon her upholstered bed in the rear of a rusted vehicle. Heavy black cloth covered the window, sealing out the light untill she should wish it's presance. The day was rainy and drear, and as the 'dragon stirred in the late afternoon, the clouds gathered and began to rumble, light flashing from their dark roiling masses. Awakened by the noise, Maharet lifts her sculpted ebony head, pushing back a curtain with on extended claw to view the summer shower. She sighed, thinking that prehaps she ought to go to sleep again. But despite herself, she stretched and began to groom herself, licking the stay hairs straight with her rough tongue. She would have prefered a proper bath, but water was scarce in the machina, and what they collected in rain barrels outside of the compound, they rationed carefully. Maharet and Oli had a rather extensive base of operation. Composed of several old cars and a tractor trailer, conected with everything from tin ductwork to dryer hoses, they slept and planned the days away, readying themselves for the next big heist. This afternoon, Maharet made her way sleepily to the trailer, their main area, of sorts, in search of Oli, her associate in crime. She had a full list of things to do today, but thought they might exchange greetings before she dissapeared to train and scavenge. Always, Maharet would tone and train, striving to raise her body to the next level of strength. And at Oli's command, she was constantly on the search for interesting pieces of equipment, which he would turn into fascinating devices and weapons. This afternoon would be no different, but she stopped in the trailer anyway, looking for Oli, who had come to be more than just a partner in crime.</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>Oli was hard at work already - he had a strong work ethic, as one might say - something not to be expected of a 'dragon who would be considered a 'lowlife,' 'street trash' among the more well-off 'dragons about. Early, long before the sun rose over the gray and brown landscape of rusted vehicle carcasses and decaying buildings, he had rose to continue work on his latest project, something which one could almost qualify as 'home improvement' in the loosest sense. He was in the trailer, orange-coated goggles pulled over his eyes, using his newfound abilities to channel energy through his tail flame and arc welding together a new electrical junction box, the contents of which he just finished wiring. The 'home' now had lighting, composed of neon tubing threaded between air ducts, around pipes and along walls - it cast an eerie blue glow about the compound, light low enough that it would prevent the compound from easily being seen whilst still giving them vision enough to not bump in to things. Just then, he heard the sound of someone padding in to the room over the electrical crackle of the welding and pulled his tail from contact with the metal. A blue sheen eminated from it, covering his body and causing he, himself, to glow strangely for a moment before flickering out in a millisecond long burst of pure white light. He had noticed more and more such phenomenons occuring as of late - something big was at work, yet what it was he could not tell. Regardless, his concern was turned from the strange color shift and to his partner - someone for whom he felt true affection - though, for some reason, was not able to show it to. Regardless, they both knew eachother's feelings through some manner of subconcious communication and no speech on the topic was necessary - her presence was enough to satisfy. "Lass, y'slept like a rock! You're up in time though - if y'didn't rise on yer own, I was gonna knock ya up in a second myself! I just turned on our lights." He pulled the goggles up so they sat on his forehead, exposing his eyes - as close to a gesture of affection as he could muster at this point in time. The eyes, it's said, are a window into the soul - exposing them to someone are much like exposing them to your inner workings. They are both powerful and beautiful - and they can speak volumes on their own. His seemed especially bright on this otherwise bleary day and his mood, for the most part, seemed to match. There were no grand plans for this day - just a day at "home" - as close to a normal life as a 'dragon like himself could stand to live. And he was happy that way - as he hoped 'Haret was. He glanced across the room at a project of his that lay scattered on the floor - his new "rocket propelled grenades" - he had read about them from an old, old newspaper he had discovered covering a guerilla war. Warfare fascinated the 'dragon, and when he had read of these items and their potential for devestation, he knew he must have some. He had completed the launcher and several grenades, but was yet to test them. He was contemplating presenting them to 'Haret as a gift, but wondered if a woman could ever truly appreciate the eerie beauty of a grenade launcher. It wasn't important, however. Things like that could wait. Time to live for the moment - while there was still one worth living for. Sunbeams cast dancing spears of light through the air of the trailer, clearly visible in the dusty environs, they added much to the experience, warming the room with their presence. This truly was how Oli had dreamed of living all his life, and it was finally coming to fruition - with two other strange benefits he didn't yet understand fully - the girl, and these strange new powers...</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>Maharet blinked in the eerie glow of the flourescent lighting- an electrical phenomena tht she had never before heard of. Her dark eyes, usually narrowed in suspicion or anger, widened in wonder, and she spoke to him in an awed voice. "Oli, what miracle have you brought in from the rain?" She grins as they cast shadows over all their industrially constructed furniture, chairs of metal piping and car seats, shaped and welded in his tail flame. His power grew with each passing day, and Maharet's feminine senses told her that some greatness was at work in him, something both beautiful and frightful. He exhuded an aura of power, and she often drempt of them together, enemies and common folk falling before their combined power. But deep within, fear rose, for allready his strength surpassed her own. How long could she continue to be useful to this strange creature of power? She pushed these thoughts away, the idea of being alone after having forged such a bond with him, though prehaps only one way, enough to suck the happiness out of an afternoon. Maharet loped over to the table, placing her forearms on the screw strewn surface to peer at his invention. "You never cease to amaze me, darling." Her smile was brilliant and full of a strange pride. Watching him build such beautiful contraptions made her feel more for him, but what outlet she might have for these feelings, she coudln't say. To be demonstrative and be regected would hurt more than she was readily willing to admit.</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>He chuckled lightly. Outside, rain could be heard pattering on the tin roof - a strange contrast to the beams of light that shone through the window - today bore with it the rarity of a sunshower and the possibility of a rainbow - something one would not see that often in a place such as this. His usually hard-set expression relaxed into a pleased smile as he shook his head quickly, knocking the goggles off altogether. They were large and clunky and quite a bother to deal with. He crossed the trailer, hopping on to a particualarly well-built seat of his own design, replete with overstuffed cushions and soft, vibrantly colored fabric. Of all their posessions, it might be the only one that could be considered truly 'nice'. It seemed to be an object that commanded respect - the kind that one could curl up on during a dreary day such as this and take a nap. But Oli intended to do nothing of the sort. He grinned down at 'Haret and did his best to put on a coy grin. "I try, yes." He stood atop the comfortable chair as if atop a mountain, surveying his kingdom. The walls of the trailer were riveted steel, painted a dull shade of greenish blue, calling to mind a scene from a beach, perhaps. It was soothing - it made this room his favorite room of the compound, and he spent much of his time here just for the coloration - it was quite unique to him to see something that soothed his eyes - it was quite a strange feeling of relief. And that's why he liked Maharet so much - he got the same feeling from her.</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>Maharet curled up in a chair beside him, a less regal seat made from steel mesh and copper tubing. Her dark exotic eyes blinked in the new flourescent lighting, but she relaxed in the chair, her head laid upon the armrest nearest him, looking up at him with sparkling black eyes. "Something is at work in you, Oli. Your new strength... daily it astounds me." She could not deny any longer her fear of being cast out, too much of a weakness in the shadow of his new strength. She decided to broach the subject of her place in the partnership. Part of it was job security- she needed a nitch in the operation that made her essentail, something that she was best at so that she couldn't be cast aside. But there was another reason for her concern- something she could barely name, a welling inside her chest at the very thought that she was sure had no connection to the job itself. Prehaps, a need to be needed. But in what manner? There was no doubt that she and Oli had formed a bond these past months, but neither of them had practice in the art of demonstrating emotion. But it was there nontheless, she felt it as only a female can, a bridge of understanding. They had done so much for one another- He had rescued her from the streets, where she had killed and whored for food, showing her how to use her talents in more profitable, and less distastful ways. And she had been a good partner- watching his back, making bigger and more profitable operations possible with just her presance. Her skills were no small matter as well, but they had both gained from the companionship in itself. Where there had been loneliness, there was comfort. Maharet didn't want to give that up. And so, she posed the question that had plagued her for days, as she watched him demonstare more and more unnatural strength. Her usually curt voice was uncharicteristicly timid, and her bright eyes, usually so full of sarcasm and wit, were downcast. "Oli, tell me. What will happen when you don't need a partner anymore? Allready, my strength is but a spark beside your blaze."</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>A smile crossed the male's maw - something rare, indeed. The compliments were well recieved, and such kind words were appreciated. Especially from someone as close to him as 'Haret. The thought of such a time had never crossed his mind - 'Haret had always felt to be more than just an assistant to him. He felt some strange connection - one that he felt akward mentioning - and most likely could not describe, even if he wanted to. She would not be going, even if his uses for her were to wane - he would find some reason to keep her around. It would be easier if he could bring himself to discuss the predicament, yes, but he couldn't. So he would have to deal with this question carefully. Thought went in to forming an answer that seemed appropriate. Unfortunately, his execution was akward: "I don'a reckon it'll happen soon."</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>Maharet's frown deepened, but she said nothing. His answer was not what she had hoped for, and thoroughly unsatisfying. But he was rather reserved, she knew. 'Haret shook her head silently, chastising herself. Â What were you hoping for, a confession of love? You knew he wouldn't ever say such a thing. She sat in silence for several moments, unsure of what to say to break the uneasy quiet. What was there to be said? Their bond was like some dark secret which they pushed aside, to timid to imagine realizing such a connection. And 'Haret, unlike Oli, was not satisfied. He had too often seen past her exterior, and should have realized that in her depths she needed the words and the emotion, instead of this awkward professional relationship, which they both knew would be useless if things went on as they were. What excuse would he make to himself, when he spent more energy protecting her than she could return? Would he be forced to acknowledge it then?</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>He could see visible signs of frustration play across her features - obviously he had not delivered his answer well enough. The point was not made and he would have to risk, for their sake, a small display of affection to make it clear what his true intent was behind that phrase. He hopped from his seat, jumping in to hers with an almost feline grace, something else he had developed strangely over the past few moons. He gently pressed his nose to her neck, nudging it softly and then nuzzling it somewhat akwardly - this was the sort of thing he was no good at. He almost immediately hopped out of the seat, however, and in an effort to save face, quickly turned the topic of conversation. "I'mma need a new DC brush motor, for 'at generator out back, aye? It's been bang out of order since we got it and the constant electrical prollems throw a blasted spanner into the works when I'm tryin' ta work."</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>She paused a moment before answering, clearly suprised by his scant affectionate display. She was heartened, for surely even such a meager display was a good sign for them. 'Haret smiled to herself, but then looked up at Oli. "Shall I find you another? There might be one at the factory, I saw a generator there weeks ago. It might have such a motor, if no one else has scavenged it already."</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>He glanced out the window into the pouring rain. Surely, though it would be mildly wet and uncomfortable for her, it would help him escape further embarassment. "Aye, yes, but hurry y'self, lass. The weather's getting rather nasty." Something seemed wrong though - almost as if part of him didn't want her to leave the room just yet. He needed that motor - but for now it seemed as if it could wait days - even weeks. The generator was of no concern to him - it could run fine on its own - at least, that's what he convinced himself. Outside it could be heard whining and wailing like a jet engine winding up, sputtering on its last legs of functionality. The lights flickered. Yet he suddenly reconsidered. "Er, on second thought... ya should prolly stay here for now, lass. Relax. No need to rush." With a crackle, the power cut out, the dull blue glow subsiding and bathing them in the darkness of the trailer. For some reason, he felt that if he spent just a little more time with her his act of affection might somehow be returned - a thought that had never crossed his mind before. Why did he wish for such a thing? That sort of desire was childish at best, he reminded himself. "I need ya 'elp 'ere... with... the launcher..."</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>'Haret shrugged and roused herself from her chair, leaping to the ground asthe lights flickered out. Gloomy light from outside seeped in through the cracks, so it wsn't quite pitch black. Left in the semi-darkness, she peered at him, their eyes little points of light in the gloom. It was eerie, but somehow comfortable, cozy even, the twilight ambiance of the trailer. The femme steps foreward to assist him with the grenade launcher, a truly sexy piece of weaponry, if there was such a thing. But as she nears him she pauses, seeing a strange look on his face in the dark, and getting an odd vibe from his mind (Though she read minds only with the sincerest of discretion.). With only a split second to think, she leans foreward and buried her scaled face in his furred neck, rubbing her head against him like a cat who deposits her scent. What was it she had sensed in him? Just the smallest, most insignificant thought of longing, of desire, almost... and it quite excited her. She had waited long weeks to feel such an emotion from him, the slightest sign that he might not turn away if she were to reach out to him. Maharet reached her maw up and licked his jaw, a bold move, but one that she had dreamed of fr nights now. She wondered how he would respnd to this exravagent display, hoping gainst all hope that he would not pull away, would not turn away from her when she had risked so much.</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>The sudden, unexpected display of affection roused emotions that had laid dormant for the longest time. He simultaneously felt weaker than ever before and stronger than he'd ever imagined he could be. A muddle of confusion welled up in his chest and fogged his mind - which told him that this was not safe. In this sort of business, such a relationship could cost one their life. Love fogged the brain and dulled the senses... it numbed the mind to logic and reasoning and prevented one from thinking correctly. Yet he could not resist its pull - even master thieves made mistakes sometimes, he reasoned. With not another moment's delay - as there had already been several seconds hesitation, he returned with a cautious lick on the cheek, followed by a quickly spoken warning. "Aye, lass, this is well dangerous territory we're walkin' in now... though I canna say I don't enjoy it."</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>'Haret paused just a moment before pulling away from him, savoring the feel and smell fo his fur. But she backed out of thier hesitant embrace, her eeys filled with a sad longing blinking slowly against the welling of emotions. "Aye, my dear. But just for a little while... if we could stop being partners, associates, or criminals, and just be 'dragons, like any other pair, free to love whom they chose..." Her gaze droped to the floor, where her paws rested, black against the silver steel floor, and then her vision darted back to his face. She saw the wisdom in his words, and knew within herself that just one afternoon would never be satisfactory, that after this she would allways want him. But still, she rationalized. We could make it work, we could still be professional... It was true that neither of them, no matter how much 'Haret wished it were otherwise, were big on shows of affection. But the dangers were so grave, and as much as she wanted this, she didn't want him hurt, not on her account... The inner turnmoil was too much. She shook her head to earse these thoughts, hoping that intuition would be best. because now that it was out in the open, Maharent couldn't imagine giving it up for anything.</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>"Maybe the time will come for that, lass. But right now..." Though he did not show it, inside he secretly cursed every single one of those words. He didn't believe in what he was saying, and he, too, wished that for once he could be a normal 'dragon like everyone else and spend the rest of the day with 'Haret - just him and her. Yet something prevented him from doing such. Was it professional experience, or something much deeper that he was yet to understand? Comprehension of such emotions beyond the grasp of his already overloaded mind - the powers involved seemed far too strong for him to combat, each side tugging at him for control over what he said next. He knew what he was going to say - and he didn't know why he was going to say it. He didn't want to, by any stretch of the imagination, yet out it came anyway. "...The generator needs fixing..."</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>'Haret just stared at him, her maw hanging open in frustrated disbelief. That was it? He was turning her down... just like that? How could he be so insensitive? How could he deny what they had, what had been about to erupt... She snapped her mouth shut suddenly, her usually relaxed smile diminished to a tight, angry line. Her eyes threw silent daggers at him. "Fuck the generator, Oli." And more vemonous, with spat out like so much useless refuse. "And fuck you." She turned tail and ran for the tin duct that connected the trailer to her bedroom, as it were. From inside the duct, shouting so that her angry, wounded voice echoed through the cheap metal and into the trailor- "You are going to have to make a choice, Oli. I'm not going to be a part of this if I have to pretend that there isn't anything between us." Her voice nearly broke, but she caught herself. It simply wouldn't do to let him see her cry. "It's just not a fair trade." She dissapeared into her room, letting the thick black curtain fall in front of the duct entrance, and all went silent.</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>Oli grunted. Women were so fickle sometimes, and he could never bring himself to understand them. The wave of emotion seemingly passed, he shrugged it off. She'd get over it. They always did. ...Right? His mind once again raced with uncertainty and anger - who was she to blow him off like that? Who did she truly think she was? Without him, she was nothing. Only the most basic instinct - a natural safety catch - prevented him from shouting this back at her. He stormed out into the rain to the generator. The generator was a hulking beast behind the trailer, belching smoke from its diesel engine, covered in solar panels to help 'pad' its electricty output, and surrounded by stacks and stacks of dry cell car batteries all wired together so as to supply power when the fuel supply were to run out. Sparks were shooting from the turbine shaft of rotor brushes, and he quickly shut down the generator completely to stop further damage from taking place. He quickly set to work dismantling it to repair, hitting a switch on the generator and bring them to dry cell power - the batteries would last them several days if they needed. Inside the turbine, as was to be expected, the brushes had burned to stumps, their aluminum metal bristles melted to the sides of the motor. Running these things in reverse was not a smart idea. He'd blow them out too often... he'd have to find a proper turbine soon, his luck would eventually run out with these motors. Suddenly the gravity of the situation hit him like a load of bricks and he fell to a sitting position, staring blankly at the stack of batteries before him. All this work seemed so worthless... so shallow... so empty. There was no meaning to his existance as it stood. Now that he had had a taste of life the way it should be, he could not truly expect himself to go back... could he? Of course not... And for what was the first time he could ever remember, a tear rolled slowly down the side of his face.</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>Curled up in the front seat of her car, Mahret fumed, angry tears rolling off the tip of her nose and onto the worn leather steering wheel. How dare he toy with her like that, showing her affection and then pulling it away? How could he possibly expect her to stick around, to play his little crime games and find his elecrical parts for him, and never be able to acknowledge what was so blatantly present between them? She had been right- he would ditch her when the time came, he would put her right back out on the streets, because eventually she wouldn't be usefull any longer, and he wouldn't let love keep them together. Maharet would rather go back to whoring for a living then bear the buden of his rejection yet again. She peered out the car window, watching the rain, and Oli, fixing that damn generator. She let the curtain fall closed again, pretending to herself that she didn't care. Taht it didn't matter what he did. She would find someone else to make her happy (Though deep down she knew that Oli would never allow it.), someone else to fill the void. She lept into the backseat, curling up atop a blanket and leting it flow out, the lonely monthes wasted, waiting for him to show the tiniest affection for her, and today, her emotions a heap of trash. Outside, the rain grew heavier, pouing down in ceaseless torrents that it seemed would never stop. And inside, 'Haret cried into the cushion of the car seat.</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>Yes, something needed fixing today. But it was not the generator - Oli felt the strangest need to right this wrong. It was not the loss of an assistant that loomed before him - no - that had happened too many times before to count. To wild animals, to stupidity, to anger, and to his own bad temper. Today, before him, stood the possibility that he could lose the only person he could truly say he'd ever cared for. He waited a moment to compose himself - to dry up the flow of tears that ran down his face (though it would not be noticable - he was now drenched in rain anyway) and proceeded back in to the trailer, back in to Maharet's car. Hearing a pathetic whimpering noise from the back seat, he scowled momentarily - then his face softened up again as the tears once again threatened to flow freely - yet he held himsef fast and lept over the seat into the back. He hesitated momentarily, then leaned forwared and whispered gently in 'Haret's ear, "Lass, I want this to work just as much as you." He gently licked her cheek and nuzzled the top of her head, then lay himself down beside her, continuing to pay attention to her neck and chin with small nips and licks.</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>Embarassed, 'Haret staunched the tear flow almost immediatly, her face returning to the hard mask of before. She endured his affectionate licks, as they were a novelty to her, but did not yet return them, still hurt and angered by the situation, and forced herself to back away, mentally, from the entire event, to distance herself slightly, the best emotional defense she could come up with at the moment. "You don't have a very adept way of showing that, Oli." She avoided looking at him, but as he continued to lick and nip her neck and maw, she softened and laid her head down atop her paws, peering at him with one carefully guarded black eye. Finally, he wore down her anger, and she rubed her head against his neck again, taking in his scent, his texture. "Please don't tell me that I can't have this, Oli. I think I might be in love with you."</font>
<font color='#FF7F00'>Oli's ears perked suddenly and his movement ceased. Those words were not words he had expected to hear - yet for some reason they felt like the only words he had ever wanted to hear. Someone cared for him - a lot. It was a feeling he had never yet experienced and it was absolutely wonderful - a delightful sort of fluttering in his chest and fogginess of the mind that made him forget the troubles of the day - the generator, the launcher - here before him was something more important than either of those. Here was a staggering emotional bond of a scale he could not yet comprehend - waiting for him to simply acknowledge its presence. The moment overwhelming him, he blurted out the words before he could think of what he was to say - as he made a point of doing. "I... eh... lass... the feelings are mutual. I have a notion they've been so for quite a time now."</font>
