Spren of Kindness
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Reese waits, looking out over the woods. Despite the fact that she's seen and heard nothing in the last week, she's still a bit jumpy. "I'd have done it myself, but it's not a one-handed job," she says.
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"Thanks."
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"I've got a couple things that'll at least be useful for jury-rigging." Reese uses her non-metal arm to open her pack, and pull out the repair kit.
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"Yeah." Reese leans over and pushes her fingers against the release plate on her inner forearm.
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"Well, I didn't really have another option when my arm got blown off," Reese says dryly.
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"It's been spasming, kind of pulsing electricity. I'm worried that it's going to lock up soon." It's highly likely. The YTP wanted to keep an eye on it's soldiers, after all, and needing their help to remain completely functional was a pretty effective tool.
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Reese walk over, thinking quickly. It almost looked like the other woman was afraid of the sunlight. Interesting. She unwraps the bandages and fabric covering her arm, exposing the metal.
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Reese shrugs. "Go." She picks up her back pack and waits, watching.
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"Alright. How about that one?" Reese points to a decently sized tree. There's a nice, low hanging branch she can definitely jump to if she has to.
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Reese's eyes narrow again. She knows better than to walk into a trap. "How about you come as close as possible and I'll bridge the distance?"
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"Classified stuff? Gotcha. Do you need me to move? Is it the wood?" She's seen stranger things than wood allergies.
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"Then what is it? I assure you, I'm capable of dealing with pretty much anything." Anything she's trained for, her mind unhelpfully clarifies.
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Reese watches as Trylle hesitates. "I'm gonna take off my backpack," she says, carefully slipping the straps off her shoulders and setting it on the ground, just far enough away to not be within easy reach. "I'm unarmed." True, she could just as easily disable an opponent without weapons, but Trylle doesn't need to know that.
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"Okay." Reese steps closer, balancing her weight carefully. She doesn't know enough about Trylle to know if she could outrun or fight her should the need arise. "I have a few tools, if that would help." She takes a seat on a log about halfway towards Trylle.
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"All metal here. The fingers spasm again, and she grumbles, pressing her flesh fingers against the flex-mesh in the wrist, trying to locate anything wrong. "I've got no problem with that."
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Reese thinks fast. She can't lie about this one. Doesn't have the time to come up with a convincing lie, anyway. She pulls her hand out of her pocket, and pulls her glove off, pulling the bandages loose as she does. "It's glitching." Either Trylle won't believe that what she's seeing is real, or she'll recognize it.
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"A tall man, reheaded. I'm not sure what he's going by." She doesn't know what Martin's orders were when he was shoved through the rip, whether he was supposed to go undercover or be honest. Her arm gives an odd buzz of electricity and her fingers spasm in her pocket. She really needs to do maintenance.
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Reese feels frustration beginning to simmer. If she knows what direction not to go, that will make her search easier. She narrows her eyes, studying Trylle thoughtfully. She has to defuse this situation somehow. "Do you know if there's anyone else in a three day-travel radius? I'm looking for someone, and I'm hoping I might be able to get a lead." Just enough of the truth to hopefully soothe some of Trylle's suspicion.
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"Odd. I've seen hints that someone's been through here, but I haven't seen anyone else. Which way did you come from?"
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"Are you the only one out here?" Reese asks. "I haven't seen anyone else for days."
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"Probably insects," Reese lies, shifting her posture to a more open, friendly stance.
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"What's what?"
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All of them and none of them. Worlds of war, and peace, and everything in between. Chaos and serenity merged, in discord or in harmony. As the wheels turn, they bring stories to light, and I spread them.
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"Not really sure, to be honest. I was aiming for somewhere... different." She still isn't sure how the rip had gone that poorly. The tech is not inaccurate so much as it is risky. She drops her hand after a moment, puts her left hand in her pocket. The servos whir unhappily.
