ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY.

⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓢till, 𝐈 find it 𝘴𝘰 𝘩̲𝘢̲𝘳̲𝘥̲ * —
⠀⠀⠀⠀To 𝘀𝗮𝘆 what 𝐈 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 to say .
⠀

[ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY. @sicparvismagnae]

Once again, the Saber comes forth in his functioning arm.

“ It doesn't matter. ”

He doesn't need the arm, either. Two can play the same game.

[ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY. @sicparvismagnae]

The curse of evolution. When does it become too much? When do we understand the horrors of nature and life itself? None may ever see through their lives without cruelty imposed upon themselves by another ; when does it stop? They do not wish to understand, but they do.

[ᅠᅠ│𝑺𝑎𝑑─𝑴𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒〃₊ ⊹ ˑ @SIMPLESTSPUTNIK]

Mariana felt it, the sheer disdain and judgement. The air was tinged with an understanding of him she didn't want. She didn't recognise him, and it didn't matter. People like him hardly knew what kind of monsters they were. How complacent they were.

[ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY. @sicparvismagnae]

A warning flashes through the screen. Left digit motorics compromised ; the metal grinds, it almost looks like a man who's broken his arm, when the limb goes limp. This was the better chance. To lose an arm is better than to lose his sight.

This is it. Hand to hand.

[ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY. @sicparvismagnae]

How did he close that distance in such a short amount of time? He's not simply bumrushing, either— both shots aimed directly at the servos of her hand's joints ; just disabling that rifle is good enough.

The advantage has to be here pressed ; to allow distance would mean loss.

[ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY. @sicparvismagnae]

His own breaths have drawn and ran cold by the time her own hissed through the Minovsky-disrupted communications. An evident lack of effort toward keeping her locked is payed for in full via a blast impact slightly lower than the hull's center of mass, sending it away—

[ᅠᅠ│𝑺𝑎𝑑─𝑴𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒〃₊ ⊹ ˑ @SIMPLESTSPUTNIK]

⠀⠀
Merely the breathing of a Cyber Newtype could be heard from the other side. She was focused on the mission and nothing else. Instead, it's free hand pushed into the waist of the other to shoot it's plasma cannon once again.
⠀⠀⠀

[ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY. @sicparvismagnae]

To see this woman treat grounds covered in the countless lives of men fighting for better tomorrows...

To spit in his face and have the / gall / to prey on those not concerned in their game of blood?

BLAM! BLAM!

High powered energetic rounds blast through heavy smoke.

[ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY. @sicparvismagnae]

That weight on his chest, that metallic aftertaste in the back of his mouth— those countless nights spent just under the stars she so many times dreamt of conquering, the lingering smell of coffee, the feel of winter cold.

And all of it seeks to kill him.

He staggered.

[ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY. @sicparvismagnae]

The Sea Wasp. The Yellow Whisper.

A name given to the pilot of suits with red and yellow accent ; active since the Gryps War, and ever the tale of dread for fleets everywhere. You won't ever hear it coming, and by the time you feel its sting, it'll already be too late.

[ᅠᅠ│𝑺𝑎𝑑─𝑴𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒〃₊ ⊹ ˑ @SIMPLESTSPUTNIK]

⠀⠀⠀
Perhaps uncharacteristic of the war legend, but not of the real person, it seemed she was not a fan of unnecessary bloodshed.

The Dreissen began to press its blade. The pilot knew exactly whom she faced. But her rival did not.
⠀⠀⠀

[ᅠ ᅠ ᅠBLUE MONDAY. @sicparvismagnae]

Until then.

Until that voice cuts through the very psyche of the Zeta's pilot, like he intended to fate her through his blade.

“ ...... Mariana. ”

His pupils are shrunken in horror. This can't be true. This voice can't be hers— but / that / feeling...