Hi all! Kali here and-
What? You don't know anyone called Kali? You know!
Don't you?
Fine then. Female, kooky, the one who Semine gives pills to. Now you understand! Wait- you thought I was dead? Meanies.
Yes, I realize that the last time I updated was forever ago, but I have an excuse. I was in Butterland. Yep, Belgium, where cardiologists fear to tread. It is made of butter and beer. (beer beer beer tiddly beer beer beer tiddly... Bard's Tale joke...) So I was not near my computer, which has the update thingies on it. Like, stories and the like. So nya, I have an excuse.
And now, on with my second blow to Semine!
Foaly looked at the elf in front of him. So many things were wrong with the LEP's only female Recon officer. For one thing, she wasn't Holly. But after Holly quit, the council tried to hire a man, but then the feminists started to rally even more, and the council struck a deal with them. As long as this elf can stay in Recon, and goes above ground every once in a while, the feminists would stop inciting the secretaries.
"So, Miss Milia, what is wrong with what I'm seeing right now?" Senior officers were getting roped into orientating a n00b as part of Sool's new management "technique."
Bastard.
Sira's orientator had been fired the other day, so when she came to ask Foaly for some tech help, he commenced to pick up the slack so that he could grumble about being unappreciated later.
Sira looked blank for a moment, then looked down at herself. "Ummmm… I'm not as busty as Holly?"
Foaly blinked a few times, ridding the images that came up from that statement. "Ugh."
"What was that, sir?" If only Sira would stop looking at him with such innocence. It was like looking at a hedgehog.
"Nothing. And no, the problem has nothing to do with… The problem is, Miss Milia, that you are not in uniform, nor is your hair cut short enough. We have rules for a reason…" Foaly started his lecture, fully aware that Sira had stopped listening.
When he finished his lecture, he poked her.
"Oh. Sorry, sir. I'm not wearing the uniform because it doesn't come in non-busty. And Sailor Moon costumes make me vomit."
"Who gave you the uniform?"
"Mister Verbil, sir." Apparently Chix had decided to help with the retrieval of the slack.
"Ah. The actual uniform is…" He scooted to a supply cabinet and grabbed a uniform. Why he still had uniforms in the Ops booth was a mystery, even to him. "This. And you'll need to get your hair cut."
"But isn't it already short? It's shorter than your hair."
"Yes, but that is because I am not a Recon officer. You, however, are. And you have to get your hair cut."
"How short?"
"One and a half centimeters, max."
"Bleck. I mean, yes, sir! I'll get it done tonight. I'll go to my cubicle now to finish off the paperwork."
"Remember to fill out the pink ones three times, the blue ones eight times and double check the yellow ones. The yellow ones go into the teal tube, the blue into the purple, and the pink ones into the tye dye tube."
"Yessir."
"And only use blue pen on the blue ones. Black on the yellow ones, and puce on the pink ones."
"Yessir."
"And don't sneeze while filling out the acid green and highlighter yellow ones. They'll self destruct."
"Yessir. Respectfully, sir, you have too much time on your hands."
"That may be, but at least I'm consistent. Occasionally. Now get out of my booth."
"Yessir." And with that stunningly original parting remark, Sira was out of the Ops booth and halfway to her cubicle. Foaly was left wondering why the femminists had chosen her, and why the temperature in the Ops booth had suddenly gone up.
Early the next day, Foaly found himself looking at the security camera screen (Sector 229), waiting for Sira to walk in. That suprised him, but what suprised him more was that she was the first Recon officer to come. She walked to her cubicle silently and began her paperwork, occasionally rubbing her hand over her new buzz cut.
Foaly heard her speak to herself as she flipped through her already tall stack of paperwork. "Let's see...case file, case file, forwarded mail, Chix's case," she placed that file on her desk, "some diary, property of Chay Whitfield," which also went on the pile, "and a thousand more files I have to fill out." Sira picked up Chix's case and Chay's journal and walked out of her cubicle, reading the name plates on the desk. When she had finished putting the others' stuff back, she went back to her respective cube to work.
Foaly thought he had witnessed enough for one day and started to do his work, like answering emails and procrastinating on projects.
About an hour later, the rest of the Recon unit started to trickle through the doors. As Chix passed Sira's cubicle, Foaly heard her whisper, "Next time, try doing your own work, instead of throwing tough cases on me." Foaly snickered too close to the intercom. "Wow, that was some weird static," Chix commented.
"Yeah...Static..." Sira looked up at the nearest security camera and winked. "Now, I need to get back to work, unlike you, who merely has to walk around feeling horny to get paid." Sira went back to her endless stream of paperwork.
A little after lunch, Chay walked over to Sira's cubicle. "Hey, there's a little goblin problem by the silicon mines. Could you go take care of it?" Sira raised an eyebrow. "Not because I'm too lazy, but because you helped me out, and I'm trying to help you out by giving you an opportunity for some field work."
"Ah. Gimme a sec to sort it out and by the time you come back from your cookie break, I'll have hauled in at least one bad guy." Sira stood up and jogged out to the city. True to her word, when Chay passed Sira's cubicle on the way back from the Records lounge (see note below), Sira was looking down at her paperwork, bewildered. Chay started to ask if something was wrong, but an angry sniff from Sira told him that if she couldn't handle it, she would bend the world until it she could.
Needless to say, Chay ran away very quickly.
Sira stared at the note in front of her. It was scrawled out on a piece of lined paper, so messy that it took her the better part of a minute to realize that she wasn't meant to get it along with the stream of paperwork.
Definitely not Holly, but not exactly horrid...what am I saying, she's perfect. Even when she's angry, which seems to happen a lot. It never shows, though. She's never angry outside. Snide, yes, but she's never ever angry when others can see it...not unless you spend way too much time watching her, or know what to look for. But that's not what it is...
I think it's her looks, her smell, her way of knowing all, and most of all, that really disturbing dream she invaded. One minute, I'm running from a giant paper clip, the next, she's wearing signifigantly less than Chix would like, and sleeping in the Ops Booth.
But overall, I think she's decent and will do the LEP good.
"This is so not my day..." Sira muttered. This could only mean one thing: Foaly, the centaur, liked her. This was bad; office romances always ended ugly. Sira put the note in her desk drawer, hoping Foaly didn't know that he had accidentally sent the page. Sira sighed again, and went to the paperwork.
Foaly had ransacked the Ops Booth, looking for that page from his journal. He had the horrible feeling that it had made its way into the mountain of paperwork he had sent Sira. That would be bad. Very, very, very bad. Feelings weren't meant to be shared; only nursed until they passed or no longer became relevant. If he had acted on his feelings, he would be married with five children right now. But now he was in a different hell, where he could at least make others' lives hellish like his and not get written up for it. So all in all, he had succeded in his life plan to never get hurt via ugly relationship.
He looked at the security screen that videotaped Sira's desk. She seemed to be getting along all right, she must have not gotten the page. So, unless someone else in the LEP had it, he could breathe and get back to trying not to work.
Chay peered over Sira's cubicle wall.
"If you're going to act like Kilroy all day, then why'd you go into police work?" asked Sira, without looking up from her work.
"Because I get to carry handcuffs."
"Does Karen like them?"
Chay opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the whole office shouting, "For the love of god, please don't answer!" Chay looked at the rest of the office, who had all stood up and had their hands up as if to ward off so many disturbing images.
"Hmph. It's like the whole office knows."
"They do."
"Oh, and to answer your question and piss off the office: yes."
"Ew. So did not need that image."
"You're welcome." Chay walked into Sira's cube and rifled through the drawers. "Anything interesting yet? Like lingerie?"
"Do I look like I even own lingerie? Or keep it in a desk at work?" Again, Sira had swiftly grown accustomed to Chay's rather blunt lack of courtesey and odd ball sense.
"Now lookie here, I've found something." Chay stood up from where he had been kneeling to open drawers. His eyes scanned the page, seemingly ripped out from a journal, and he slowly turned green. "I now feel so sorry for the whole office and wish to apologize for the pain I've caused them. I know how it feels now. And by the way, not that I imagined it, but I can't exactly blame the bloke, whoever it is."
Sira continued doing her paperwork, ignoring Chay as was wont to do.
Then her brain fully processed what Chay had said. "Homigod," she whispered. Sira jumped from her seat and tackled Chay, grabbing the page and ripping it to peices. "Never-ever-ever speak of what you just read. And if I hear that imagery used anywhere, I will personally make Karen's sex life a whole lot harder." Sira got up off the ground and threw the peices of journal in the trash tube, where it swiftly went down into the incinerator along with all the hate mail the LEP got.
Foaly stared in disbelief at the Sector 229 screen. She had it. She had it. She had it. His life as he knew it, was over. He squatted in his chair with his head in his hands, trying as hard as he could to look as morose as he felt. A knock on the Ops Booth door woke him from his many complex schemes to make this all go away. Far, far away.
Foaly composed himself enough to seem humanoid, but not so much so that whoever the hell had decided to interrupt him thought he was in a mood to talk to anyone.
"Hi." Sira smirked at Foaly's rather annoyed face. "I take it you aren't in a mood to talk to anyone. Well, since when has that stopped me?"
Foaly was confused. Sira was the innocent, naive girl who could defend herself against an attack, but was never assertive. And here she was, walking past him and sitting on the desk -his desk- as if she owned the whole LEP.
"Uhhh... Are you alright?"
Sira thought seriously for a moment. "No. But hey, that's who I am. Never quite alright in the head, but always fun to be around. Now, about that note."
"It was a page from my journal, and I didn't mean for you to get it." Foaly mentally braced himself for the onslaught Sira would undoubtably dish out, momentarily wondering why he was suddenly acting like a nervous Mud Boy.
"It doesn't matter. I just want you to realize that I don't like people talking, or writing, behind my back. The next time you want to confess your heartfelt lust for me, actually tell me. And the next time you have that dream, just think that I would probably kill you a large number of times if you were to tell anyone or even me."
"Yes ma'am."
"And don't call me ma'am. It deeply frightens me, you being my superior and all. We can talk more later. I don't have any plans for this Friday. What about you?" In her brain, Sira hit herself many times. "Ow ow ow ow ow." What was she thinking? She knew from first hand experince that dating in the office was bad, especially when dating one's supirior.
But life is too short to be wasted in fear. It has to be lived, not put up on a shelf for safekeeping. And nights were lonely when you were the only one in the office who wouldn't enjoy a trip to the mud wrestling bar (not counting a few men in records and arms, but they were special, and usually ended up getting each other in the mud). The opportunity to love—
Wooga! Wooga! Conversation getting too scary! Conversation getting too scary! All hands on deck! This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill! Wooga! Wooga! Wooga!
Foaly was (probably) nice, and (probably) interesting, and (probabl—Would you shut up? I've got enough trouble thinking through the Conversation Getting Too Scary alarm, you going and being cynical doesn't help. (You think I'm here to help?) Shut up. (No, you shut up) D'arvit, this is getting confusing. (Damn straight.)
Foaly was (prob-) nice, and (pr-) interesting, and (p-) male. So it was, in fact, potentially (possibly) in all probablility (sort of) possible for Sira to lo—Wooga! Wooga!—ve him. Ick. (Ick.) Ick. (So we're all in agreement. Dump the pony for some rich elf.) Dump the pony for some hot luitenant. (Dump the pony, dump the pony!) Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up! One of us here is the main voice in my head. One of us controls us! I'm going to follow through with whatever the stupid heart—don't drag me into this!—got us into, and see what happens and—(So you won't loose the pony? Afraid? I think you like him.) Do not. We, no I, need to control me now, so would you shut up? We/I've wasted a full nanosecond! (Pony liker. You like the hooves, don't you?) Full nanosecond!
"Ummm... Are you trying to ask me out on a date?"
"What? Oh, yeah." Sira's hedgehog eyes came back. "Is that a problem, sir?"
"No, no, no." Foaly looked uncomfortable. He was…blushing? "I'm free. I'll pick you up at seven o'clock?"
Sira winked. "Yessir. Now, if you don't mind, I've got a mountain of paperwork to finish up."
"Don't forget that all warrants go into the mood changing tube, which only works on alternating Julys in the year."
"Yessir. See you at seven on Friday."
Dump the pony: Sira's main voice
Dump the pony: Sira's afwaid voice
(Dump the pony): Sira's cynical and selfish voice
(Dump the pony!): Sira's afwaid and cynical/selfish voices combining forces
Stick with the goddamn pony because you know you want to: Sira's heart
The references to Karen and the cookies are to Cookies on Thursday, a fic by my caretaker. If you didn't know that, I demand that you read it, as it is rather relevant to this whole contest.
And if you don't review, I shall send my attack hedgehog on you. Don't make me sic the hedgehog on you. Only bad things come in the hedgehog's wake, and the bad-ness is usually reserved for humans.
And on that perfectly happy note, taa!