I was going through my screenshots the other night and realized she's a Master and not a Captain. Whoopsie.
—In Pursuit of Paolumu—
You set out at daybreak, your Palico in tow.
You had trouble sleeping last night, for pale-skinned, dark-haired reasons, but right now you're focused—driven—as you follow the glittering trail of scoutflies and your Palico croons excitedly when you stop to examine a track that imprints the soft coral. It's several hours old, but the directionality is helpful in locating your quarry nonetheless.
You head northwest, skirting around roaming packs of Shamos in your path, until you come to a clearing where coral bushes grow densely in a range of colours. There's a massive white tree with wide-reaching coral boughs to the far side of the clearing, under which a flock of Raphinos hover, and you head towards it as you fish your map out of your pack. It's hot despite the breathability of your attire, which is constructed almost entirely from the scavenged bones of fallen monsters, and the sun filters down through the branches as you scrutinize your map. According to the scoutflies, the beast should be near, yet the physical trail has all but vanished.
The cooing of the wingdrakes takes on an alarmed note; you look up just in time to see your scoutflies, now crimson, disperse and you drop into a crouch to make yourself a smaller target. Nothing seems out of the ordinary as you survey your surroundings, but just as you're about to dismiss it as nothing, a fluffy sphere wafts lazily in front of you. Before you can question the strange and unexpected sight, the puffball swivels and the scrunched pink face of the Paolumu attached to it at the throat contorts as it releases a deafening roar that makes you clap your hands over your ears.
In the next instant you roll clear of an aerial attack, unsheathing your bow in a fluid motion and loosing an arrow that strikes the creature with pinpricks of flame. The leather hide of the Anjanath you slayed to create the weapon warms in your hands as you rain fire on your mark and the Paolumu careens across the clearing, its bulging throat keeping it aloft.
What in the World? You don't have time to think about it as you stow your bow and give chase.
Your Palico flings his boomerang and the enraged retaliation it encourages gives you precious time to stoop and scoop up a handful of Torch Pods for your slinger. You load the wrist- bound device, pointing it at the Flying Wyvern and letting loose the projectile, which explodes on impact. It's not enough to actually harm the large monster, but it does focus its attention on you, which is just what you're aiming for. You brandish your bow again, backing out of range of swiping claws and blasts of wind even as you pepper the beast with flaming projectiles.
You draw back the bowstring until it's taut as the Paolumu advances on you and there's the whistle of fireworks as you release the charged shot. You fire off bolts in quick succession, focusing on the creature's vulnerable throat and wings and staying clear of the gusts of wind it forces through bared fangs. Your Palico yowls, having climbed up on a furry white back, and smashes his hammer into the back of a broad head; the impact stuns the beast.
The two of you move together as one, descending on the fallen, thrashing monster like Revoltures on a fresh kill.
It's not long before the Paolumu's death rattle shakes the coral trees and sends the wingdrakes fleeing skyward.
...
Back at the Research Base, the Airship Engineer begins work immediately. The Third Fleet Master is practically beaming, she's so pleased, and it pleases you that you played a part in her good humour. You had even managed to craft new armour and upgrade your Charge Axe when you stopped by Astera earlier and it proudly bears the fur of the creature you successfully slew. The furry muff around your neck proves to be far too warm in the Research Base's lantern-lit ambiance and you tug uncomfortably at the stifling fabric as you navigate wooden walkways.
Even undoing the heavy metal fasteners that maintain its rounded shape doesn't do much to dispel the heat, but you try your best to disregard it. It isn't as though you have the time to go and change, not when you're following the retreating back of the dark-haired beauty. The sway of her hips is far more interesting than it should be and when she half turns to ask you something, you nearly crash into her.
This time, there's already a meal for two set out and your hostess pours tea while you take your seat. It doesn't help your current disposition, but you sip it nonetheless to be polite. The taste is sweet, subtle, and you find yourself finishing the cup despite the uncomfortable increase in temperature it causes.
The Third Fleet Master makes as though to refill your cup, but pauses and studies you for a heartbeat.
Is there something on your face?
She puts the kettle down and leans over, reaching towards you. Deft fingers undo the pink and white ribbon above your breast and you're momentarily concerned that she'll be able to feel your rapid heartbeat. The muff slides into your lap, but your focus is on the touch that lingers at your collar before disappearing entirely.
She smiles minutely. "You looked like you were cooking in there."
You were, but now you feel as though you may combust.
As always, feedback is appreciated :3