Trust yourself trust no one else
Fuck a hero be yourself
-Papa Roach, "Born with Nothing, Die with Everything"
I devour all things;
Bird and beast, serfs and kings.
Though my pace is even, men curse my speed,
Wishing I were lazier in their hour of need.
I can creep and crawl,
Rush, even fly…
I am all thou hast.
Tell me,
Who am I?
Snippets of the riddle came to her mind unbidden, an effect probably of a hyperactive mind when things were moving much too slowly. Or maybe it was much too quickly. In reality she knew things were not progressing with lag or with haste. Time slowed for no one, no man, no woman, and certainly not for her, just as time wouldn't speed up for anyone either. Not her, contrary to what her ego may believe. Time would not grant a boon like that, only hard pressed training would.
It was with agonizing slowness the door handle stopped jiggling its protest of the wrong key being used, and instead began to smoothly turn. She was as ready as she would perhaps ever be, it would take just seconds for the door handle to finish turning, for it to be pushed open, to find the chair that would only prompt a curse and a booted foot to rise up and levy a kick against it, shoving it open and then…
And then...
A voice, harsh in its delivery and unintelligible to her linguistically got it all to stop. The door handle was left alone, followed by the sound of the man before who wanted into the room, and the still hurried franticness of the inn worker answering in the same language.
It must be Martian; a silent curse that she wished she understood, looking to Deimos as she slowly lowered the falchion that she had raised in anticipation of using. The man didn't meet her gaze just yet, and instead bore a look that said he was very much processing what had been exchanged outside. The sound of footsteps was loud at first before fading off as the door that had denied entry continued to deny so much more. This time however being the sound of those outside the door leaving.
She released the kept breath she had drawn, returning her falchion to its sheath once Deimos stood down. She didn't have to look, just listen, to Phobos and the Priestess returning their own weapons away. One was far more confident than the other, a twin rasp to be answered by off key, jarring stabbings before the short sword was firmly in its scabbard.
The tension left the air, but it didn't do so quick enough for her liking. It wasn't exactly slow, but she knew she was missing something. Whatever the other voice, the third party had said, was the reason they had their boon in the first place. It was the only reason they had their reprieve. She had issues about being indebted to people, it was one thing out of friendship but it was entirely another thing out of some factor she had no control over.
Maybe it was just better to say that she had control issues period.
Now however was not the time for self realization. Her falchion returned to the scabbard she pointedly looked between the three of them. The three that refused to meet her gaze, at least not right away, and at least not after they too conversed softly in Martian. If there was ever a time she felt like the outsider, now would most certainly be it. It wasn't quite as though they made her out to be the butt of a grand joke, but the feeling was almost mutually exclusive with it regardless.
It did not take long for the unmistakable sounds of drunken behavior to reach them, despite the nature of the door. Martian or not, while she couldn't make out the nature of the songs being slurred along, she could make out the sense of carefree actions and flowing liquor that colored the noise. If she needed a cover, now she had one. The question was though how to use it effectively.
While the three moved off to stand closer together and continue on with their low voices, she went to the window within the room. It was dirty but not a complete lost cause in the sense of providing a view outside. There was no alleyway; the building was here period. It shared a few neighboring ones but there was no common thoroughfare along the back. One wasn't needed, not when not too far away from the buildings' edges began the rocky formation of some sort of hill or something. Maybe a quarry, given that there was a smith of sorts here. It would make sense, the town looked to be in a valley of sorts when they approached, but she admitted to herself she didn't give it that much thought.
Perhaps she should have, but hindsight was a bitch like that.
What did catch her eye resulted in a soft string of such colorful cursing that it managed to have the three Martians stop in their conversation and look over at her with alarm. She ignored their looks now; funny how that worked but it was the passive aggressive side of her mind that found delight in such social snubbing. From the window she began ticking off with her finger and thumb quickly, using a speed counting method she had been taught what felt like forever ago, when she was being first groomed for leadership.
Thoughts for another time however, not bothering to release a sigh for it would indicate defeat. Instead she turned, looking to the now captive audience she had. Already anticipating questions, she went straight forward with the report, just as seemingly a Martian would. Funny the things that rubbed off on you, or the things you learned how to adopt just for survival situations in a strange land.
"There's an army camping outside, towards the way out. Unless they don't follow standard cohort schemes, there's at least three thousand men out there."
The looks on their faces was utterly priceless. If she was anyone else, she might actually revel in it. She wouldn't deny the slight satisfaction she gained from it however; she was Venusian and naturally had a streak of arrogance to contend with. She strode to her pack where it leaned against the wall, debating for a moment as she knelt to look between it and the window. Deciding the best course of action she undid her helmet from where it hung from her pack, carrying the otherwise damaged piece of equipment with her as she returned to the window.
"What. What are you doing?" There was a momentary elation that she smiled from as the Priestess stumbled out the question. There would be hope for her yet taking up her position among the Princess' honor guard. Wiping the smile from her face though she turned back to look at them, taking charge of the situation.
"We can't stay here. It is only a matter of time before someone from downstairs stumbles up here drunkenly and demands the room. Just as it is only a matter of time before the camping army decides that a bed sounds a lot better than sleeping on the ground, or liquor instead of whatever water is in their canteens."
To make her point, the boisterous laughter from downstairs grew as a drunken song was taken up. She couldn't follow the words exactly, but she could guess their meaning. What sounded like a body hitting the wall by their door caused them all to jump in their place, looking towards it with alarm before a slurring voice muttered off something, moving off the wall to heave and stumble their way further down the hall.
It still however didn't bring the other three to move, much less anything else that could have been action in the right direction. She felt her anger rising despite her best intentions, hefting up a helmet before another voice began shouting from the end of the hallway. Whatever it was being said must be bad, for it finally got them to move. Phobos vanished to the side room to collect items, returning to offer things to Deimos and the Priestess to carry, looking over at her expectantly while he spoke to the other two in the same fucking Martian they had been going on about.
The voice grew louder, followed by the sounds of a heavy fist pounding on the door next to the room they were residing in. Next door, voices answered back, muffled and unintelligible regardless. It sounded like arguing however, for whatever it was worth that would probably make no difference anyway.
"Look, its obvious I don't speak Martian. You all can keep talking in your secret talk once we are out of here. Tell me what is going on." She finally broke down with, looking at them pointedly. Way to bring attention to the herd in the room Minako she thought, but looked at them regardless awaiting an answer.
Deimos at least had the graciousness to look slightly sheepish, quickly filling her in. "The man shouting be saying all rooms belong to Warlord Staedtler. Everyone to be getting out of their rooms before the man physically removes them."
What kind of fucking name was that? Staedtler? She tried to wrap her mind around it, even going so far as to try and silently pronounce it before giving up. Fuck Martian names.
The pounding fist and threats moved to the door across from their room, growing louder with proximity. She had enough of it, bringing her helmet up swiftly she smashed it against the window pane, shattering glass. That it drew a slight gasp she didn't care about, instead shoving most of the broken shards away. Running her gloved hand along the frame, she finished making quite the mess but at least would prevent numerous lacerations from crawling through.
"Come on, we're getting out of here."
"We… we can't do that! You said there's an army out there plus its nearly night!" The Priestess protested with a raised whisper. She just answered with a look that spoke all the questions she wanted to ask in its place, collecting her pack to sling on over her back while placing her helmet on, damaged or not she didn't care right now. She wasn't going to leave it, and she didn't have time to tie it back to her pack.
"The temperatures. They be dropping quickly when it be night." Deimos supplied.
"I'd rather freeze to death than be captured."
The man began pounding at their door, his voice raised as she assumed Deimos was right, demanding they vacate their room for the sake of the Warlord's army. Probably really his officers, as most didn't care about lower ranking foot soldiers. She didn't care, walking to the window to glance out of both directions before she looked back at them.
Deimos wasted no time, his mind made up with a sharp word to Phobos. Climbing out of the window he shimmed down out of the frame to drop to the outside ground with as little impact as possible. There wasn't time to fashion anything in the way of a ladder, much less rope to help him out but he managed quickly all the same. Phobos looked between the two before he quickly followed out of the window, making a human ladder however for either to climb down.
She gave the Priestess a look; she would bodily carry her down if she had to. The man at the door tried the door handle, succeeding in opening it up as the chair lodged under it protested. It drew from him what she imagined was a curse, followed by his weight being shoved against the door for the chair to give a few inches of progress towards giving out entirely.
"Move it, now!" She all but screamed at the Priestess who acted at last, climbing out of the window and to the outside below just as the chair gave way and the man stepped inside, quite angry. She moved at him, delivering a high kick right to his chest to send him stumbling back into the hallway, followed by her hand slamming the door shut hard enough it lodged momentarily in its frame. Turning she ran to the window, hearing his renewed efforts and screams as he barged back into the room.
With far more grace than should be possible she jumped through the window, landing in Deimos' awaiting arms who was kind enough to catch her. With a smile of thanks Phobos pointed off towards the way they came, leading the way as the Priestess ran behind him, followed by herself and Deimos, and the hurried shouts of the man who was yelling out of the window now at their retreating forms.
A/N: Staedtler is the brand name of a German highlighter that's sitting by my monitor. When all else fails for inventing names, look around.