A/N: Dead air, huh? You guys really must hate this story or everyone's gone on vacation sans Internet. Unlikely. One favorite story, no reviews. LEAVE A REVIEW? Well, here's second chapter. It's not as good as I would have liked, but it continues Lara's journey.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything remotely related to the Stargate franchise. That belongs to its respective owners and creators. I wish, though.
Two weeks later, Lara groaned, rolling out of bed and thus out of reach for the male hands that held her possessively in grasp. She yawned, rubbing her eye sockets before redressing. The night was beautiful on whatever planet she was on. She had quitted the mercenary act for the time being; not that she needed to hide out. She had been right, they had been richly rewarded for the artifact. Enough to fuel the Sylvester for more missions, but she had declined Miron's, and surprisingly, Debian's offer about joined heists. She had told Sarin to give her greetings to Neera, hoping to see them in the none-too-near future.
Commuting from planet to planet was, while not fruitful, kind of relaxing. She had offered to translate some Goa'uld once, but hadn't stolen anything or acquired by other means. She was actually feeling a bit good about herself, but then they dreams had come. Lara refused to call them nightmares, damning the notion out of pure self-preservation. She had gone to purchase some herbs the other day, but had been interrupted mid-walk and forced to leave. No, her days were slumberous, almost boring.
What nagged her was the device from the mine field planet. What it had said, specifically, or what it hadn't said. It had mentioned the Tau'ri, the chappa-ai-venturing enemy of the Goa'uld. Lara had never found herself drawn to something before, less of all the moralistic Tau'ri with their allies. Last she heard Vala Mal Doran had joined them, which she, at the time, had pitied. Her line of business had lost a great con artist. Now she heard rumors about Vala still operating, which made her think her leash with the Tau'ri was looser than it should be.
Lara, more unknown and new to the business, had no place doubting their decision. She knew the address to the chappa-ai of the Tau'ri, but was also aware of their safety precautions. They had a metal shield that could envelop the event horizon, making sure that any uninvited guests were vaporized. Lara wasn't a fool; she kept away from the Tau'ri. The population didn't even know about the chappa-ai or the worlds that awaited them, which made trade hard but not impossible. Their planetary defenses against ships being picked up on their radars, however, were another story. Lara shivered at the thought of her beloved Sylvester crashing after being hit by the Tau'ri and their ignorantly superior weaponry.
She had considered offering her permanent services to another Goa'uld. While free-spirited, she acknowledged the kind of wealth that came with being aligned. She knew more than enough of the language to come by and was even able to distort her voice enough to fool Jaffa. Something about it bothered her, though, and that was the reason to her own seclusion.
She swallowed and thought about the words of the device. Your quest for truth has been lessened by your actions along the way, but ultimately, your goal is to find the truth of your enslavement.
Was that her purpose in life? Stealing, conning and offering her services to those who wanted it to stop herself from finding some sort of enlightenment? Of that she was unsure. It wasn't a quest per say, but vague memories of her life before her life in Erebus' service tended to bleed through, making her question how she was recruited.
The room she stood in had five tanned walls, creating a pentagon with a door (a cloth) on one wall, window on the opposite wall. A full-body mirror had been placed inappropriately opposite the bed for reasons unknown, but it offered a great view over the room and had helped Lara fall asleep. Now she looked at her mirror image, her body coated in moonlight, the semi-dark hair almost blue. She looked so vulnerable, so young. While she claimed to be twenty, she barely looked old enough to be eighteen. A light breeze from the window made her hair whip against her face, exposing the ever-reminder of her enslavement. Immediately after her freedom, she had tried to use several ointments to cover the tattoo, but her skin had been tender and sweat washed it away too easily. It did, after all, make her look older, wiser, more weathered. She had been an early bloomer as far as her recollection told her.
The man stirred in his sleep in the bed behind her. She made no move to flee, but instead studied her face. The last time she had had a chance to look upon her face had been months ago. Now, when she looked at herself, she barely recognized the young woman in front of her. Often she looked in the crowd, looking for a woman or a man with her eye color. She wondered whose eyes she had inherited, or if she looked like her mother at all. Her slender fingers, were they inherited from an artistic mother or from a farming father? Questions like these did hunt her, but she had never thought of her search as a quest. The fact that she remembered separate lives did make her wonder.
The memories had awoken while she was in Erebus' claws. Resurfaced during her nightmares, she hadn't thought much about them at first, believing them to be conjured dreams. But then, as she investigated out of curiosity and unsettling boredom, she found herself seeing patterns in the vivid dreams, recognizing new things and quickly getting ahead. She didn't rebel against Erebus; she defied him in the smallest ways possible, being difficult but never enough to be executed. Somehow, Erebus had been fond of her. Not unlike one would a child, he had been merciful at her actions of rebellion, allowing her freer passage where others would have been punished. Whether his intentions had been to groom a host or his forbearance had been due to fear was unresolved. He had been killed before she could take action, always having some excuse for her troubling dreams. She now suspected he had suppressed her memories somehow with the alluring aspect of future treasure. He had played her fondness for trinkets and gold and power into his favor. She felt utterly cheated.
Maybe Miron had been right (which bothered her more than she cared to admit): maybe Lara had been the lo'taur of Erebus. Had she not reaped the goods from Erebus allowing her to roam freely? Had she not, in similarity to the Goa'uld, thought her own needs above that of strangers? Greedily, she had used one heist after another, proving herself to be immensely good at finding treasure if it came with a rich reward. Those things scared her. She had treaded sacred grounds for the sake of technology she didn't even understand! For ideologies she did not even comprehend! For the sake of proving her God to be the grandest and mightiest!
Lara felt sick to her stomach at the realization. A bad taste welled in her throat. She staggered back, suddenly ill by the thought of her actions. Memories of her heists floated through her mind, some independent, others in the service of Erebus, some alone, others like the one she had just been on.
The cinnamon-haired woman quickly packed her things, left the sheet behind and redressed in her loose pants and t-shirt. She tied her shoes quicker than ever, the laces of the boots knitted across her shins promptly. She was so used to leaving abruptly that it was almost second nature, a failsafe to fall back on in hostile situations. She considered it cowardice. Useful, but cowardly.
The walk back to the tel'tak was refreshing and helped clear her mind from the many heists. It did, however, leave her wondering about the possible connection between her frenzied memories and what the device on the mine field planet had said. The star-clad sky above her yielded little advice at what best way to get any sort of cohesion. Her vest fanned out behind her as she found herself looking for advice the simplest places. The stream ran smoothly by her feet next to the trail, the moon reflecting upon it, splashing against the small shores. The name of the planet hit her like a whirlwind. Simarka. In the last decade woman's rights had blossomed, leaving the planet and its tribes under serious development. From a society where women could be executed, and would, because of not wearing head veils that covered their lower faces to an almost equal rights society where some traders were even females. Simarka was a beautiful planet with lukewarm nights. The natives were primitive and lived in tents or simple buildings of clay with pentagon-shaped rooms like the one she had just spent a night in.
Lara exhaled deeply. The medicine of Simarka was almost unrivaled, its natural herbs effective. The shavadai were good people, a little tribal at best, but good traders she had met in the past. Neither of these things seemed alluring now. As she approached Sylvester, she didn't even think about the way her absence would be explained. She had other things in mind than pesky conflicts.
x SEIZE THE ORBIT x
It was with held breath Lara had convinced herself to do this. Of course, the act itself required total arrogance, not a moment of self-doubt, which came surprisingly easier to her than she would have liked. There were immediate benefits and damn her if she didn't recognize the pleasure it gave her to be able to command beings to her every wish. For once it was empowering to be the final voice, the one who ultimately decided if others would live or die. Pleased and equally horrified that people believed her so easily, it was almost poutingly disappointing to reach the point where she would have to face the consequences of her deception. She had almost forgotten that she would have to be rebelled against in order to attain her goal. The means, however, were luxurious.
"Sitra," he greeted maliciously, bowing more in mockery than respect. A snicker bared Lara's teeth but she made no move to correct the disrespectful mannerism. She sauntered to him, the golden clothes dragged behind her like a pompous veil, a river of pure gold. Her hips moved theatrically and with the grace of a predatory lioness. The Goa'uld hand device rested on her left hand, ready for use. With a distorted voice, she began to speak. She had to keep herself from flinching at its rang.
"Jaffa, kree!"
He fell to his knees promptly, held by his fellow Jaffa. She stretched her hand out as if to touch him, then saw the pure fear in the eyes of the spectators as her head shot up.
"Leave us!" she ordered, her voice marred with symbiotic depth. The remaining Jaffa and servants left the room, only the defiant one left, unarmed. She didn't know what gave her the most pleasure.
"Sitra, my goddess.." he began, but she cut him off. There was obvious betrayal in his tone.
"Rad'rac, I grant you forgiveness," she said, losing the distorted voice and retreating her hand. She held the moment as long as could, feeding on its power. "I am no god. Not even Goa'uld as I lead you to believe," she admitted, her eyes unto the now confused Jaffa. She knew he was part of the Jaffa resistance and that was why she had chosen him as her Prime. She twinned her palms in a thinking gesture, a praying gesture in other cultures. She deemed it appropriate.
"False gods.."
"The Goa'uld are false gods, but I am no Goa'uld," she declared with a certain venom in her words. She hated the mere suggestion that she was such, but it had been necessary. While she could have obtained the same knowledge through posing as a Jaffa, her gender made it much harder. The Jaffa came to the last Goa'ulds with wishes to extinguish them. By posing as one, she had made a target of herself but also made it far easier to contact the Free Jaffa Nation. Something that was harder than one would assume.
"How can I be certain?" the Jaffa bravely asked, his eyes falling unto her hand. "You possess the ability to use the kara'kesh," he pointed out.
She blushed casually, no particular reason and looked down at her hand, amused. "I do, don't I? It is a natural ability of mine. It has nothing to do with Goa'uld possession, I ensure you."
Truthfully she knew that she had some sort of affinity with Goa'uld technology because of naquadah present in her blood. She had no idea why it was there. She had never been a host.
Rad'rac slowly rose to his feet, confused but testy. "What is the purpose of this deceit?" he asked, anger rising.
She knew his anger, knew why, but despite posing as a Goa'uld, she had slaughtered no innocents, executing no-one. If anything, he should be grateful. If she had been, her eyes would have glowed by now and he would have been dead. Yeah, she had enjoyed it a little bit.
"I wish to go to your Council," Lara said, removing the hand device. The metal ribbons always left marks on her skin, reddish bruise abrasions. She winced ever-so-slightly when it came off, taking with it a layer of skin on her wrist. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Rad'rac, obviously surprised, widened his eyes at the weakness.
"Why not use the more..," he paused. ".. proper channels?"
Lara looked down on her wrist, examining the small scrape as she spoke. "Because I wish to speak to one individual specifically," she said like it was obvious.
"And whom might that be?" he asked, his hold on the staff weapon she had given back to him tightening.
Lara laughed lightly. "Bra'tac."
x SEIZE THE ORBIT x
It seemed the plan wasn't as easy as first intended. Rad'rac had agreed to take her to Dakara, the Jaffa stronghold, for examination. Lara suspected that Tau'ri or Tok'ra technology were to prove that she spoke the truth and had no symbiote within her. They took the Sylvester – per Lara's request – and she had more than enough time to explain her situation, however, she didn't. The Jaffa was suspicious of her already and was inclined not to believe half of what she told him. Once she had stripped of the golden wristlets and anklets and quickly changed into a more casual outfit, she joined him in the cockpit of the tel'tak. It was weird, seeing another fly Sylvester. In many ways, it had become more than a mere means of transportation; a home, a sacred ground and a child of sorts.
She watched with curiosity as the Jaffa's shoulders tensed as she stepped closer. She knew the feeling of distrust all too well, but was slightly repelled at being on the receiving end. At least in her line of business, the pretense of what wasn't was to come by. With one fixed hand, he took something out of his wristband, a light-grey cylinder approximately a half inch by two, the size of a broad finger. He injected himself with ease.
"What was that?" she inquired.
"Tretonin," he explained. Lara furrowed her brows in dear confusion. He made no attempt to elaborate, so she instead slipped into the other chair of the tel'tak, staring at the seemingly endless starry darkness before their eyes. She missed Miron at times like these and found herself wondering where he was in the galaxy.
She admitted that it hadn't been a perfect plan. Far from it, spun in a minute's time, or, more precisely, the time it took flying to a formerly Goa'uld-occupied world and convince the primitive villagers that she was a god. It had been startlingly easy, too easy and had brought back realizations from the night in Simarka. Now she could cross off that of her list. Posing as a Goa'uld. That had to be the lowest move she'd ever made, and already now she regretted it. But, as she'd pointed out before, she was proud and she would never admit her plan to have been failure.
She was truly that wayward if she had turned into a con artist with such low standards. However, a voice inside her head kept asking, but you got what you came for, didn't you?
Rad'rac moved in his chair uncomfortably. Lara sent a glance in his direction, but chose not to speak. The more she cooperated, the more likely it was that she was granted audience to see Bra'tac. He was well-known across the galaxy for having been the mentor to Teal'c, the first of many to rebel against the Goa'ulds. A remarkable task at the time, Lara reminded herself. It was the efforts of Jaffa that had pushed the Goa'ulds to the point where they killed one another for sanctuary and loyal servants and Jaffa, which had ultimately been what had set her free.
Despite this, she couldn't find herself being grateful.
"We should be at Dakara soon," the pale-skinned Jaffa informed her steadily, his voice leaving no hints as to where she found herself in his mind. His musclebound body was clad in the standard charcoal grey Jaffa uniform, the neckpiece discarded in the cargo hold. Lara had never studied the symbols on the uniforms – armor seemed more appropriate, she determined – but now, even in the dim light settings of the cloaked tel'tak, she could make out symbols and read it like an open book. Phrases like 'holy warrior' and 'serving true god' were prominent and numerous, but soon drowned in the mass.
"You know Goa'uld," Rad'rac commented while his hands rested on the delmac.
"Yes," she confirmed, wondering if his words were a statement or a question.
"How?" he asked appalled. She let her sleeve slide down and exposed her shoulder, or, more exactly, the mark of Erebus.
"Tal shakka mel. I die free," she cited, a painful expression on her face. "Posing as a Goa'uld came as a last resort. I, too, remember being a servant of a false god," she said scornfully.
Rad'rac seemed satisfied with the answer. Soon they entered the orbit of Dakara and the surface stretched out before their eyes, the ocher-red landscape with its templar style halls and meeting auditoriums astounding. They flew past the dome where Lara presumed the Ancient weapon rested, now clad in sand and mountain, awaiting its remerging. Columns held the architectural buildings and it was with awe she found herself glancing upon the renovated city of the Jaffa nation.
They landed swiftly, Lara with held breath. Dust and sand speared up around them, clouding them in ocher-rich sphere, but they departed the Sylvester easily in an area reserved for parking ships, particularly tel'taks and death gliders. Lara shivered with unease but threw one last glance at her ship before following Rad'rac on the wide path.
She was a frequent flyer of the area of the galaxy, but had never been on Dakara before; not even before it fell to the Ori. Trading opportunities were rare and jobs even fewer amongst the noble Jaffa. They were proud and fought honorably. Even then it was with a certain amount of tension that she found herself surrounded by this many Jaffa whose families had fallen in battle against the Goa'uld generations ago, yet fresh wounds still remained in their heads. If they decided that she was indeed a Goa'uld or loyal, there was little she could do to convince them otherwise.
They ascended the stairs of what looked to be an ancient building, columns bearing the marble roof. Lara was filled with an unknown awe at the architecture. She was set to wait in one of the halls, and momentarily alone, she studied the lack of Goa'uld gold and symbols. It was.. oddly refreshing. It reminded her of a place of scholars and education.
"You sought to see me?" an old and wise voice asked, remarkably fresh. Lara spun around to see the form of Bra'tac. He was shorter than she had expected him to be, but made up for it in agility and respect. She bowed her head in respect despite her devil-may-care attitude.
"Tek ma te," she found herself greeting the master. He seemed surprised by her young age and her knowledge of the Goa'uld but recovered quickly.
"You know of me," he stated, then his wise eyes flickered to her state of dress. He wore the robes of Dakara while she was dressed simply in pants and a cotton top. Her skin gleamed with sweat from the exposure to the sun. Earlier she had scooped her hair into a horsetail, few strands having found their way into her eyes again, now plastered to her forehead.
"My name is Lara," she introduced herself. "I, er, used to be in the service of Erebus."
"You are not Jaffa," Bra'tac concluded, his eyes narrowing slightly at the statement but he remained kind and non-threatening.
She shook her head, her blue eyes glinting with expectation. "No," she declared defeatedly. A staring contest seemed present and then evaporated. She wasn't sure, but she now held his respect.
"What can I do for you, Lara?" he asked almost grandfatherly. He looked withered, even for a Jaffa. He had lived many decades.
"I.." Damn, she'd prepared a great speech! Stammering, she began to formulate her plea. "Since Erebus fell, I have been free. I have taken up a living mosts might consider.. dishonest, but only in the best interest of my gifts."
"Gifts?"
"Yes," she concluded. "I am fluent in Goa'uld and the technology responds to me despite the fact that I have never been a host. That was how Rad'rac found me," she admitted sheepishly.
"He was sent to execute the Goa'uld Sitra," the old man told her although why remained an enigma; he didn't seem to pass judgment on her action of posing as a Goa'uld, yet was disapproving at the same time.
"I regret that," she flippantly apologized. "I improvised."
Bra'tac laughed. "You do indeed remind me of the Tau'ri, child."
Instead of replying venomously that she was in no way related to the Tau'ri with a snicker, she found herself startled at the comparison to the Tau'ri. It was the second unrelated time that somebody had connected her to the Tau'ri in only a matter of weeks.
"I am no child."
"No?" He looked almost amused. "How old are you?"
"Twenty years," Lara lied.
Bra'tac rose a brow but dismissed the idea of confronting her. The master gestured for her to sit down. They had walked for a while, and Lara had not noticed that they had entered a smaller hall, open but also more private. She obeyed.
"Then you were a child when you were taken by Erebus," he noted, the grace and wisdom of a warrior in his gravelly voice.
Startled, Lara said what came to mind. "It wasn't that sort of agreement."
"I made no insinuation," Bra'tac insisted. "But tell me, young one, why have you come to see me? Several things could be said to most Jaffa and I am none the superior."
"I .. discovered an artifact on a planet that told me I had a quest," she admitted, looking down in her lap. It was ridiculous to think he wouldn't think it foolish.
"A quest?" Obviously Bra'tac couldn't see his importance in the matter.
"No, you don't understand, master Bra'tac. With all due respect, you do not. This artifact mentioned the Tau'ri. I don't believe in prophecies, but since the revelation I have found myself curious about the ways of the Tau'ri. And it is known that you are well acquainted."
"You want me to set up a meeting," Bra'tac said, smiling. She nodded hesitantly.
"Then I will contact Teal'c and the Tau'ri."
x SEIZE THE ORBIT x
She was given a room with windows and an opening without door. She would have liked better to stay in the Sylvester, but it seemed inappropriate to insist upon being treated like a trusted soul when she had posed as their enemy to get here.
A young Jaffa – so young that it seemed inadequate to apply him the term warrior when it was clear that he had never been enslaved as a Jaffa warrior to the Goa'uld given his youth – brought her robes the color of lavender. They were softer than the cotton ones Bra'tac and the Jaffa wore, but of the same style. She quickly changed and redressed but felt weird knowing that the young Jaffa stood so close outside her quarters. In hindsight she could understand their wariness to allow her exploration of Dakara. In hindsight, her plan didn't make sense. It had been a guess, a mere hope that she would be allowed to see Bra'tac, let alone that he'd trust her enough to actually set up a meeting. But no, he had given her the benefit of the doubt without her really telling him what she planned to do with the Tau'ri. What would she say? She had never dealt with the Tau'ri before. Did they have any strange customs? Would they send a soldier or a spokesperson? What would Lara tell said person?
Downheartedly, she sat down at the makeshift cot in the assigned room. The lavender robe strayed the skin of her thighs, a cooling sensation. Dakara was mostly desert, a red landscape stretching in desolation for miles beyond the actual city. There were housings like the one she sat in nearby the temples and council chambers, but most of the denizens arrived by chappa-ai or ship. Out of the opening in her quarters she could see, if she squinted her eyes, the landing spot where rows of tel'taks and some other ships were located. It would be minimally risky to sneak away, but it would prove her efforts useless. She would stay and be the benefit of the doubt – for now. She had a tendency of skedaddling, something that stuck with her no matter how hard she tried. She wasn't a one-planet, home kind of girl. Neera, Sarin's daughter spoke of her home planet like it was unlike no other, a place of complete rest and paradise. Whenever Lara asked to why it made the self-proclaimed 'most restful' planet, Neera went into long descriptions and fierce reasoning, all in a total devotion that Lara envied. She liked hearing the young girl's common life, how the streams joined rivers in deltas where people would wash their clothes whenever it was low tide with minor currents. How the women would converse and talk about their simple lives, exchange experience and tips for better preparation of food or more intimate occasions. At that point Neera always blushed.
She liked, no, appreciated the times with Neera; it made them both feel like they were normal people. Normal people often died by the hands of war and Goa'uld tyranny. This was an unspoken pact. What little Lara had to tell about her life before meeting them (excluding her tenancy at Erebus' court), plus a couple of white lies, she gladly told Neera. The red-haired Nomarian had an easy smile and great intuition. One time Lara had even forgotten that they were scouting a market and lost herself in passionate conversation with the forger's daughter. Forger. Con man. Whatever the job required. There was a lot of those types out there, many of which Lara had labeled as mercenaries.
Which she could also label herself. She stared out the opening, rising from the cot. The robe followed her movements, blazing lightly in the wind. The heat was dry, far from humid, and dirt was stuck between her toes. So far Dakara only impressed her in the architectural department. She knocked on the door and opened it curiously. Yeah, the young Jaffa boy was still there. He looked fourteen at most, his hair cut tight to his head, color indeterminable. His skin bore mark of generations of desert people breeding, but his eyes were kind, trying to be a man. She contained a girlish smile at seeing him. He was tall, but she outed him by a hand.
"I was wondering if I could see some of Dakara. You live here?" she asked, trying to be polite. It usually came natural to her – people who were treated politely were less inclined to proclaim theft – but considering the situation, she failed. Big time. The boy sent her a suspicious gaze as if trying to figure out her intentions, his hazel eyes narrowing horizontally until he nodded hesitantly and resumed his attempt at military posture before moving. A wooden bashaak became the appropriate wandering stick of a teenager. Even underneath the thin cotton blouse, Lara could see muscles move. Unlike previous encounters with boys his age (and below), the Jaffa boy didn't speak. He asked no questions, spoke only when needed. Clearly she had underestimated him.
She kept a similar gait, walking a couple of feet behind her escort as he led her throughout the columns. Quite solemnly he told her of the various purposes of the different meeting halls. The former temples did indeed remind her of a place of education. At one point the boy slowed down, halted shortly and glanced at a closed section of the temple. "Council Chambers."
She rose a brow and nodded, asserting it to memory. Not that she had any intentions of sneaking into said chambers. An inner rebel fought but she resisted the temptation to contemplate over the possible relics and items of value present in the currently sealed-off room.
Beyond the circle of temples laid refugee camps. The boy – not having told his name and showing no intent to do so in any near future – stated that the camps stretched for another mile into the land of Dakara. Lara had always wondered what Dakara was; the planet? The capital? The continent? The city? The temples? Now it seemed so futile. The refugee camps – because they originally were – consisted of Jaffa of any Goa'uld who had rebelled. There were fighting rings, areas of food and cooking, areas of home. Developing Jaffa culture. Jaffa rendezvous of any warrior willing to mend for past mistakes. Dakara was a place of defense and a place of salvation. Their efforts were truly admirable. Future hope grew in the camps, be they refugees or not.
Her feet were sore and the hems of her layered robes dirty by the time they retreated back to the assigned quarters. A bundle of her personal items laid on the ground near her cot. Puzzled, she looked at the boy for answers, but he merely shrugged and stared at her, saying: "Your stuff from the tel'tak. Should you need them," he added.
Once again she felt the ounce of possessiveness concerning Sylvester. Others had obviously intruded, collecting these items from her storage units aboard the tel'tak. She could only hope that it had been Rad'rac, who at least seemed to pick up on her maternal protection of the ship. She fumbled with the vast sleeves of the robes. Albeit its appearance, she felt very feminine in the lavender-colored clothe. Her hair was still in the high horsetail she'd styled it in during the trip here. Sitting for herself, she braided the strands, missing the presence of a good comb or brush but settling for her fingers. Then she waited, lying aware on the cot, her face against the ceiling, waiting for the boy or another Jaffa to return.
And slowly, her eyelids fluttered until they closed for good, entering a dreamless sleep where her body curled up in a ball, careless about the robes and wrinkles.
A/N: So, she has a mission. A sorta established mission. I read somewhere that's good for you.
Do you like the portrayal of Lara? Anybody noticed the slight hint I made last chapter?
A teeny, tiny review? Anyone out there? I promise it'll be more adventurous in the next chapters!
