Ten years seems like nothing.
They demanded that Starling return as the seventh addition to their team, their family, and this time she didn't have the will to refuse their childish faces sparkling in their late teenage glory. The room was still lavender, a color so ridiculously suiting of her aura. The racing stripe was still there too, for Aerrow simply couldn't resist adding a sporty edge to something so soft and conspicuously female. Unfortunately, the vulca bat repellent ball was still disgustingly present and spewed a repugnant odor every once in a while depending on the sort of fashion in which she opened the door, constant reminder of what garbage and ten week old dead mink smelled like. There was also a faint outline of where she supposed a frame once hung, quite crookedly she might add, suspicions amusedly resting on the possibility that it was of Finn in all of his rocking glory. One addition she did not miss too much, but she would have preferred that far more than that awful stench.
The stench that she had come to associate with a particular green helmsman who seemed subtlety entertained each time the repellent ball secreted a puff right into her face. At first she ignored it; anyone would have thought such a sight would be fairly humorous, but the more it happened, the more amused he became. And this was the initiation to her first lesson.
So, the first thing she did was observe.
His stature, his body, his face and its peculiarly erratic expressions, his pierced ears, four fingers and three long toes. He was definitely the strangest looking one in their squadron, but Starling knew better than anyone that looks didn't matter when it came to the skills and authentic talent under the surface. It took a lot of time for her to truly see that, however, there was something more than his neurotic somewhat maladjusted habits. She never understood why he would chastise her for touching a certain gadget, or fixing something that in her opinion was well in her capabilities. All her life she was taught to be cautious and to always have a well thought out course of action for every single possibility in a situation. Many times when concerning her habits of constant preconditioning the word 'paranoia' would be thrown around much to her dismay, especially when her choices of being prepared were often what kept their lives off the line. It became obvious to her that she did not know the true meaning of paranoia before she lived under the same titanium roof as Stork. While everyone else was well accustomed to his rather queer attributes, Starling knew she would have trouble adapting to him the most. He was the only other actual adult on board at the time, back when things were a lot simpler and flakes of the squadron's innocence still flickered like dying flames.
The second thing she did was avoid.
A glimpse of lime skin and she would stealthily leave the room without uttering another word. No clumsy exists, no awkward explanations, just complete silence, even if she was in the middle of a sentence and many a time she left Piper dead center in enthralling conversations filled with Sky Fu action scenes and which crystals they used to finally win the day. She was almost never on the bridge for it was one spot where Stork was practically glued to the precious handles of the helm, muttering to himself, or using up all the bottles of hand sanitizer despite the fact that the chemicals were a little rough on his amphibious skin. It wasn't until Finn and his big mouth finally pointed it out soon after she had exited the kitchen right as Stork entered, hand reaching into a fat blue jar stacked to the top with scrumptious sand cakes and stuffing several into his mouth.
"Aww man, she sees green and she wants to scream, guys!" said Finn, so obviously satisfied with his crippled rhyming sense of humor even though it was practically unintelligible with a piece of reheated steak squished in one of his cheeks.
Starling stuck around just around the corner, out of sight but certainly not out of mind, and she listened intently to their words that struck her inner chords in ways that were bound to occur eventually.
Aerrow's 'I seriously doubt that's the case'. Piper's 'I don't trust your judgment Finn'. Junko's silence except for some strange sloshing noises as he enjoyed yet another foreign meal that she wouldn't go within five feet of in fear of having her eyes sucked right out of her skull. It wasn't until the raspy eccentricity of his voice reverberated in a strangely profound way against the compact wall of the kitchen.
"Maybe she should be scared."
And the sound of his toenails clanking against the floor like a velociraptor as he headed back to the bridge met her keen ears as well as a series of dark chuckles.
There was a pregnant pause before Finn said, quite appropriately for once, "Am I the only one who gets creeped out when he says stuff like that?"
Starling headed down the hallway, her footsteps matching the rhythm of her pensive heartbeat. What was it about the Merb that affected her so much? Something in his ambiance just made her skin crawl ever so slightly. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, it was just so utterly foreign that she really didn't want to delve deeper to explore just where it came from. After all, so many years of suppressing all sorts of rotten decay under her surface taught her that a closer look at what was wrong with her was the fastest road to a self induced insanity.
She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't even want to be around him, it seemed. But they were teammates, and such a wish on her end was completely irrelevant as well as counterproductive. This was irksome to her, for she felt in some way eventually if she gave it enough thought it would hinder her. Did he truly know the perfect ways to evasively push her buttons or was this all in her head? Whether this was her imagination running amok she knew that there had to be a solution to this, some form of treaty that would at least put her personal misgivings at peace. Part of her wanted to be straightforward with him, tell him to cut the crap and that if he had something to say to her then he should say it instead of playing these stupid games. But the other half sought the retort that would inevitably come. I'm playing the games? I'm not the one being an avoidant infant.
The day went on as planned. Starling had her well ordered checklist safely tucked into a concealed breast pocket and marked off her chores and affairs accordingly, just like any fruitful Sky Knight would, well with the exception of Aerrow and that peculiar ability of his to be systematic and erratic at the same time. Carrying old Cyclonian mining equipment, long since rusted, into a nearby landfill: check. Documentation on the Condor's crystal emissions: check. Sturdy lunch: check ("You're keeping track of what goes into your stomach too?! You women are a mystery to me." Finn so affectionately exclaimed). Replacing the Red Streak's exhaust engines: check. Help Piper polish the vapor ducts: check. Sit through another gruelingly childish dinner food fight: check.
Finish "One Hundred Greatest Mineral Scientists to Ever Live" by ample lamplight...
Check.
Starling yawned, back propped up against the wall with a thick book laying on top of her muscular stomach. Outside her window were clouds, unsurprisingly, but no stars since it had been threatening precipitation for days now. Her room was comfortable as ever, but she still had a lot of trouble falling asleep without any trouble. Too much security, perhaps, since until recently she was used to a rather extreme edition of couch hopping. Perhaps having a safe place to sleep each and every night was far too much for her to handle right now. Either way, she yawned again, unabashedly scratching her stomach under the deep purple tank top she slept in as she put the book on her bedside table. It was late. It was dark. It was assumed that everyone slept comfortably in their dorms except for her, and this made her feel strangely isolated despite being surrounded by her new adoptive family. Her stomach ached a little underneath her fingertips, signaling that she did indeed need to relieve herself. Starling fought the urge to roll her eyes; if there was one thing that irritated her, it was the need to cave in to her bodily needs. But annoyingly enough, she remembered that she wasn't necessarily doing anything productive anyway, so what was the point of getting worked up. Rising from the flat cot-like mattress of her bed, she was about to venture toward the bathroom, but then remembered that she wasn't alone anymore. These were mostly teenagers, mostly male, mostly hormonal and certainly ridiculous when it came to the most infantile articles such as underpants and crude toilet humor.
Opening her door as quietly as possible, she looked down both sides of the hallway, listening intently for any movement or voices, well...besides the sound of a sleeping Junko violently sucking his thumb and hugging yet another unfortunate stuffed animal until the plush thing's head popped off like a dandelion blossom. Tip toeing delicately, her long pale and cursedly bare white legs carried her down towards the shared lavatory, promptly locking herself inside and relieving herself. The toilet flushing was annoying loud, but who could ever be sure it was her in there anyway. Turning the handles of the faucet softly so that the water ran in a quiet stream, she cleansed her hands and once again peeked outside the bathroom door in the direction which the dorm hallway connected to the bridge,
Empty.
From only that direction.
Oh how the night dulls one's senses.
There was a triumphant gait to her first three steps out of the lavatory, for to her most immediate knowledge she had managed to adjourn three complete rooms down in nothing but a purple wife beater and a pair of black panties.
And then, rock hard, hunched, black because in the shadows there was no decipherable color. All at once, in the single unforgiving package of slamming into the admitted broadness of his torso and biting her tongue so she wouldn't yelp. First she was startled, then she was furious. Who on earth was up, ruining her grand master plan of stealth? She could have handled Aerrow's genuine smile as he kindly let her step aside, sparing her the humiliation. She could have even handled Finn's wide eyes and gaping mouth akin to that of a fat trout dying from a lack of water.
She could have handled anything else.
Stork merely stood there, staring at her with raised eyebrows and an open mouth as he took furtive glances at her current and somewhat lacking attire. Starling grit her teeth. He was the last person she expected to see, and certainly the last person she wanted to see. He partially seemed mortified to catch her so off guard like this, but deep down she swore she sensed a sickening delight. Funny, he never really struck her as much of a pervert, but before she gave him even more of a chance to take in the sight of the nearly naked female Sky Knight, Starling roughly pushed passed him, throwing caution to the wind and noisily locking herself inside her room.
Breathing heavily, putting a hand against her diaphragm and feeling the wretched steadfastness of her heart, she cursed him in a savage whisper. For a few minutes she continued to fume and clench her fists. Atop the guilt for her ravaged comrades, she seemed confident, and knew that physically she definitely had nothing to be ashamed of, but modesty was something that was taught to her at a very young age, and it would take a miracle at this point for her let it take a backseat. For the sake of assurance she haughtily threw on a long baggy t-shirt from the back of her dresser, checking in the mirror to make sure it at least reached the length equivalent to her knees. The sound of something rustling against metal made her catlike reflexes to react, and she turned her head briskly to her door. It hadn't been opened, but looking downward she saw something had been slipped through underneath. Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, she walked over and snatched up the piece of paper, unfolding it. Lo and behold, and she narrowed her eyes at such a prospect, the possible treaty she had contemplated earlier that day.
- Sorry for being made privy to what your undergarments look like. But honestly, you should have remembered that I am indeed an insomniac. Be more careful next time.
Stork. -