Haelvia hadn't been in... ANY relationship that got even close to *that* level of intimacy... nevermind with anyone in Guild Metal Wolf.
Anyroad, every sun in the Eastern States, she spent patrolling with Gaheris. Every evening, she'd spend the same way, with ZERO human companionship!
Loki... he knew all that!
That he couldn't understand... made Haelvia unable to say anything in response.
She was so shocked... she didn't realize when Loki had stomped off.
Haelvia quietly cursed to the Eternal Flame. Her not responding to Loki's wild accusation was going to take yet another toll on her reputation...
...But thinking about it... no matter how she answered, she was fairly certain everyone in the company would be spreading horrible rumors about it, anyroad.
She shook her head and started climbing Gaheris' arm.
No use worrying about it.
It was sure to be a shite morning... but she'd be able to handle it a little better after two or three bells of rest in her personal tent.
...
Loukius cursed his predicament, stomping grouchily all the way back towards his Divine Armor.
"By the Flame, that... that WHORE is so... Flame-taken STUPID!!"
He drew his sidesword and smashed it onto Lancelot's shin-- bending it into an angle... making it useless.
"Eh?! You got somethin' to say?!?!" He shouted.
Loki could have swore he saw his Divine Armor's eyes light up... but it was definitely a trick of the light... "Yeah... I thought so..."
...He was such an idiot. He was starting to talk to his Divine Armor like it was a person... just like that... that...
Loki grit his teeth and punched at Lancelot, splitting open the skin on his knuckles.
He... liked Haelvia.
...not in a romantic way. That was too much.
He'd f*ck her, though.
But he was... so damned mad that he got rejected.
Why, exactly, he was mad... he didn't know.
Loki began to curse beneath his breath as he started to climb his Divine Armor, wincing whenever he used his right hand.
It wasn't for her looks-- that was for sure.
Despite all the rumors about her, she was... actually pretty good company. It helped if he didn't look at her.
The stuck-up whore was clever... and she had a surprisingly sharp tongue-- she was definitely a little better at talking than he was.
The one thing he liked... that he admired... was that she cared less than copper about what people said about her.
It made Loki want to screw with her... so even though he wasn't the one who started the rumors about her, he popularized more than a few of the funnier ones.
'Hagrid' was his idea, though. He was proud of it, too.
But that woman... she didn't let any of that bother her.
...It was a kind of strength... and it was probably the only good thing the slut had that he envied.
It was also Loki's personal weakness. He cared far too much about what people thought of him.
It was... probably why he talked about her behind her back so much.
It made people laugh.
And ANYROAD, no one was hurt because of it. That bitch was used to it! She'd probably always been a behemoth monstrosity-- probably since she came out of the womb!
That. Flame-taken. bitch.
ραпdα nᴏνɐ| сom She should have been THANKFUL that he, Loki, the most handsome guy in the Flame-taken company... probably the best Divine Armor pilot in the Eastern States took pity on such a disgusting, friendless freak.
She'd open her legs to the Centurion-- probably to that cunt-licking Optio-- and would probably bang her Flame-taken Divine Armor if that thing had a d*ck!
Loki plopped down into Lancelot's control deck, closed the chest plates, and started channeling his mana into the construct.
It was beyond frustrating-- talking to the one girl he actually liked.
Fighting... that was so much easier.
It was the middle of the night... but he had to let out his frustrations somehow.
He'd feel better, heading to the Centurion's tent and challenging him to a duel.
Loki would show him... He'd show *everyone* that he was not one to be rejected.
He turned his body-- commanding Lancelot to turn with him.
"Flame TAKE YOU!!" He slammed his bleeding fist on the interface... "Why are you so Flame-F*CKING SLOOWWWWW!???!"
It seemed like the longer they were in the deserts, the faster Haelvia was getting and the slower and more broken Lancelot was.
Loki-- he could make it work just by pumping more mana into the systems... but without doing so, what might have been milliseconds of latent inputs had noticeably become almost a full second.
It didn't matter. When he reached the Centurion's tent, he'd force the old man to accept his challenge. And if he had to, he'd command Lancelot to...
Fire?
The dim glow of a fire was catching on the east side of camp... plumes of smoke rising up into the starlit sky.
Loki leaned forward-- as if it would help him sharpen his mental link with his Divine Armor...
There was screaming.
But... were they screams of disorder and panic? Or were they the screams of battle?
"Come on, you second-rate scrap heap," Loki grumbled as he mentally commanded Lancelot to pick up the pace.
He saw something move-- something he rightfully should have missed. If there was one thing he lagged behind at piloting, it was identifying details in his surroundings.
It wasn't his fault. Lancelot was just way more shite at it than Gaheris was.
He saw... a dark face with glowing white eyes, moving forward with shadowy, black tendrils like a multi-armed Devil Beast.
It... produced a sword... and skulked into a tent.
It didn't even take five seconds... but it exited the tent, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.
A chill ran down Loki's spine.
It was... a xeno... a real, live, in-the-field xeno!
More wolves were stumbling out of their tents, dazed... half-dressed...
The masked figure cut them down like dogs.
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