G A L A T E A

[Del]

Where is this place? I know; and yet I do not. It is dark. Very dark. Still, I see it all.

Why was I put here? This is not where I belong. I belong with existence; I belong with everything else, for I am everything else. And yet I am nothing. I am everything and I am nothing. I live, yet I am not alive; I die, yet I am not dead.

I feel it all: all of their pain, all of their sorrow, all of their joy and happiness. It passes through me like a river, flowing into every fiber of my being, for they are every fiber in my being.

Why have I been cut off from them, my everything, my nothing? This is not how it is supposed to be. What is this wall that binds me? I have never been bound by the physical, not for a very long time. Why now? Have I done something wrong? All I have ever done, ever wanted, was to bring them happiness.

Am I being punished?

I love them. I love them all, and yet how can I help the ones I love when I am trapped in this place? It hurts, my heart, to know they are wondering where I am. Please. Please, do not worry; I love you, and I always will.

Forever.

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Ģ Ȧ Ľ Ȁ Ț Ȇ Ἆ

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“Today is the day you’ve all been waiting for! After weeks of testing and testing, we finally have the results for our newest Big Five team! Before we begin, we ask that the press hold off on their questions as we will be having a live press conference after the announcements have taken place. We have a truly interesting and dynamic group of soldiers this time around, and we are confident to say they could be our most skilled group yet! The future looks bright!”

The announcer continued, and the crowd screamed and cheered in anticipation. The stage, located in the massive A.D.A.M. auditorium on their base, Eden, looked spectacular today. It had been swept, cleaned, repainted, and cleaned again: every inch looked shiny and new. Thousands of people filled the seats, and an array of news stations had taken over the sidelines; the house was packed well beyond its capacity. The stage itself had a regal and finely crafted podium bearing the A.D.A.M. crest on stage left, and further stage right was a long table draped with a flawlessly white table cloth. Ten chairs were seated there, and each seat was accompanied by a microphone. The black curtains which framed the stage hid the newly accepted Big Five members from the view of the audience.

“Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for is here! Please welcome your first Big Five team! Number Five, Alendrania! Pilot, Insolitus Rivers, Maintainer, Alnair Birza! As you all know, Alendrania boasts the fastest speed out of the Big Five! With the capability zip around the battle field at warp speeds, it is truly a force to be reckoned with!”

Sol was quite surprised to hear his name called as being part of The Big Five. He slowly walked up onto the stage with a rather blank look on his face. Cameras flashed all over and the sounds of people talking were drowned out as he thought to himself. "Guess I'd better get used to all this attention. Let the games begin..."

When the names of his robot and partner were called, Alnair hardly payed attention. It was not until his own name was called that he stood up promptly and marched out. "Sir, I'm here sir!"

The announcer looked at him, curious as to his action. "Um...you can sit in your chair now, soldier."

"Sir, yes sir!" Alnair saluted, and marched with precision towards his chair and table. The crowd cheered as he moved forward: "Congratulations!" "Way to go!" "You're the man!" Alnair felt an immense wave of pride come over him. He knew was good at marching, but he didn't know he was that good!

“Onto our next team! Number Four, Suphin. Pilot, Valerie Ashell, Maintainer, Cahlour Whispers! Suphin is the Big Five’s long range specialist! This mech focuses on taking the enemy out by sniping them with hard hitting blows from a distance!”

Valerie was led through the doors behind the others, and out onto the stage. The lights practically blinded her, and the collar of her uniform itched. But these things were no big deal to Valerie. She was more concerned with the fact that with each step she took, her heart sunk a little lower. There was no chance she'd ever see Squad 125 again at this rate, and she hated this sort of attention. Valerie knew she didn't want this, and as the sinking feeling became worse, her own embarrassment and... was it anger she felt? Yes, even a small spark of anger grew, too.

Cahlour had been in shock since discovering the news, but hearing her name being called at the ceremony brought out a feeling in her she couldn't quite place, something with a haunting tug in it. She touched the bracelet that barely peaked out from her military sleeve as she stood on stage, breathing deeply as she stepped up to the stage; it was one of many - this one being bright, shimmering green. She smiled deeply at her partner, and out at the crowd, waving to them and beaming at the reporters. The bright lights overtook her, and for a flash of a second, she could almost picture her parent’s faces, beaming back at her. A single tear spilled down her cheek as she sat back down, recognizing the feeling that loomed in her, a feeling she hadn't felt for years. It was pride.

“Number Three, Desdemere! Pilot, Nasch’kaja na Avó, Maintainer, Amelia Lo’lahné Klein! Desdemere is the Big Five’s strongest offensive weapon! It uses an array of close-range weaponry to weaken the enemy, and it is the only mech that has the ability to fight unarmed!”

Nasch'ka couldn’t help smiling childishly to himself. Tucking his chin in attempts to swallow his excitement, the Minoan – clad in neatly pressed military attire – followed a swish of auburn hair onto the stage. Flashbulbs ignited at such a rate that there was a single, blinding brightness, and cheers and shouts thickened the air. Nasch’kaja turned his head to the audience, sporting a dashing smile and a wave, before using his hand to shield his eyes from the light. Regardless of the elation that followed him to his seat at the long table, he couldn’t help feeling an accompanying feeling of utter confusion. He recalled the first thing he said when he heard the news of his promotion: why? There had been no time to ask, and Nasch’ka didn’t think he would ask even if he had the chance. He was there now, and that was all that mattered. That, and it was getting increasingly difficult to think amidst the commotion before him.

Amelia was radiant. She walked on stage from behind the curtain with pride, her partner trailing behind her. When she had originally found out she had made it into the Big Five she was ecstatic; she became more so once she discovered her partner was Minoan. She couldn’t wait to converse with him. The instant she appeared, a blinding wave of light assaulted her as photographer after photographer snapped pictures. She looked back at her partner for moment to gauge his reaction; he was grinning widely and waving at the audience. She decided to do the same. She would remember this moment for the rest of her life; she would remember how happy, how proud she was, but, most of all, she would remember how blissfully unaware she had truly been.

“Number Two, Chebril! Pilot, May Young, Maintainer, Taran Sky! Chebril is the team’s defensive sentinel and one of the Big Five’s most valuable assets! This mech sets up energy shields in order to protect its allies as well as cast energy nets to capture and trap enemies; it also has an extensive library of information on all known types of Phantoms with their individual characteristics and weaknesses. Chebril’s defense is the highest out of all five mechs, though it has minimal offensive abilities.”

Taran still found it difficult to believe that he was part of The Big Five. It was an honor he tried so hard for, yet didn't expect to get. When they called out his name along with that of his robot and partner, he started wondering about who his partner was. Not a name he recognized, and he didn't know anything about the robot he was assigned either. So many thoughts went through his mind that he almost forgot to smile and wave at the cameras as he walked out from backstage and took a seat.

What? What!? What I am doing here!? May thought as she heard her named being called. W-what is going!? Why am I on this stage! How could this have happened to me? I’m… I’m nobody! May Young could not, would not, go out on stage. Her legs had turned to stone, and her body began to shake violently at the mere prospect of stepping into the public eye. Her partner, however, did not wait for her; he, a Quellian, had walked out as soon as his name had been called. He probably didn’t even realize that she wasn’t behind him. After a good fifteen seconds of not budging, the crowd began to die down out of confusion.

“What are you doing?” came a voice from behind, “Get out there!”

“I am not going out there,” said May Young.

But she did.

The person behind her pushed violently against her back, causing May to stumble on stage. For a moment, everyone in the massive auditorium simply stared at her out of confusion. Her mind went blank.

“Er,” said the announcer, “… May Young!”

And the crowd went wild. In the flurry of light and sound, May somehow made it across stage to her seat, though she wasn’t entirely sure how.

“And Finally, last but not least, number one, Galatea! Pilot, Jud Laurent, Maintainer, Luca Farron! Galatea is the pinnacle of A.D.A.M.’s scientific creations! While it is balanced between all attributes across the Big Five, it has the ability to deliver the Death Blow: a concentrated, high energy blast used to annihilate the enemy after it has been weakened. The team controlling this robot are the captains of the Big Five and together call out tactical plans, formations, and evasions to the other four teams!”

Finally, Jud exhaled to himself as he adjusted his collar and walked out into the blinding lights of the press; eyes unblinking. He had been waiting far too long for this day, and his vainglorious grin did nothing to hide it. After years of waiting, his chance in the Big Five was here. This moment was his, and from now on, things would be going his way. His triumphant demeanor bordered on the line of arrogant and dignified; he was dripping with pride. At last. He would be able to move on with his life...and make his father proud.

Luca felt something resonated deep within him as he walked on stage. It was powerful; he wasn’t used to powerful. Eleven years of experiments, IQ tests, and mental endurance examinations; they were finally over. He would never again have to face the terrors of his childhood. He was free. This feeling was happiness, boundless and pure. How would the coming months, even years, of his life be changed by this opportunity? He couldn’t even fathom. His life would be totally different now; it would be his. As Luca waved to the crowd, something inside of him released, if only for a moment.

“Please give another round of applause for our Big Five team!” yelled the announcer. The crowd responded with a thunderous bout of cheering and applauding that lasted well past the five minute mark. The candidates, with the exception of a few, could not help but smile back at the adoring masses. Once the crowd has settled down, the announcer spoke again. “Before we begin our press conference, A.D.A.M.’s General in Chief, Renata Jaeger, would like to speak a few words.”

Coming up from behind, Renata Jaeger approached the podium, the heels of her boots clicking loudly in the silent auditorium. Essentially, she was the leader of A.D.A.M., and in some respects, the universe as a whole. She was a harsh and calculating looking woman who constantly wore a devilish smile on her face. Her military uniform was special and specifically tailored to compliment her body, which deviated from the military norm; she was almost as fashionable as she was influential. Her dark blonde hair was pulled into a long braid that fell down to the small of her back, and she wore a small pair of glasses on the tip of her sharp, straight nose. Upon reaching the podium, Renata Jaeger delivered her signature smile. She began to speak:

“Friends! Family! Fellow Soldiers… I thank you today for coming to celebrate with us on this most glorious day. I am filled with joy at the site of our newest team, and I know they will do wondrous things in the days to come. With our joy, however, must come caution: Phantom still plagues our universe. While we have been able to combat this menace since its appearance ten years ago, it remains an ever growing threat. While we grow stronger everyday, so do they. We, the people of the universe, must remain strong and united in order to crush---” she declared as she slammed a fist down upon the podium, “--- the enemy… That is why A.D.A.M. requires your continued support; we may be the protectors, but you, the people, are our pillars. Without you, we would be nothing!”

The crowd responded with wild and thunderous applause once again. Renata had captured them; this audience was hers. She smiled once more.

“I, Renata Jaeger, General in Chief of A.D.A.M. will continue to defend you until the day I die! Please do the same for us by whole-heartedly supporting A.D.A.M. as we transition into this new era. I give you, The Big Five!”

And then she stepped aside, sweeping her arm back to reveal the candidates sitting at the table to her right; the noise was almost deafening. As she walked off the stage, the announcer spoke one last time:

“Let the press conference begin!”

“I have a question for Miss Klein!” shouted a reporter near the front of the stage. The announcer glanced to Amelia Klein, an impressive looking woman with auburn colored hair and brown eyes, and she nodded in reply. The reporter continued: "Miss Klein, You’re well known for your work as a Minoan ambassador; how will joining the Big Five affect your diplomatic endeavors?" Miss Klein replied with a congenial nod, quickly running her fingers through her hair out of habit, before answering.

“I fully intend on remaining active in my diplomatic duties; however, since my Minoan visa expired, I have no choice but to focus my attention on something else for a while. As you know, it can take up to two full years for visas to be granted, so I have to do something worthwhile with my time. When I heard the Big Five was re-opening, I knew I had to take the opportunity; I am overjoyed to have made the team. However, once my time as a member is over, I plan on returning to my original goals.” The audience clapped in response to her answer, and she smiled as the cameras began flashing.

“Next question!” said the announcer.

“Nasch’ka! Nasch’ka!” called a man, “Over here!”

Nasch’ka leaned forward in his seat when he heard his name called. Scouring the crowd, he located the reporter who bounced up and down to get his attention. The Minoan acknowledged him with a small wave.

“While not well known, your physical stats from your Academy days are nothing to laugh at.” Nasch’ka glanced up momentarily, his brain hastily translating the words. The reporter continued. “Were you surprised you were assigned to Desdemere, the most offensive robot of the Big Five?”

His face scrunching in slight confusion, Nasch’ka sat back in his chair slightly, considering the question. He bent in closer to the microphone after just a few seconds. He chuckled sparingly.

“Truly, I was in surprise to be chosen at all.”

That was obviously not the response the reporter had been expecting, and thus he probed deeper. “Yes, but… it says here you had a nickname back in the Academy.”

The flesh on the Minoan’s brow furrowed. “Nick… name?” A name that was “nick”? What did that mean?

“Yes. The Black-Eyed Beast.”

Nasch’ka scratched his head, voice spiking up a few decibels to accentuate his perplexity. “Beast with… black eyes?” He thought about it for a moment before, in an epiphany, pointing to his own eyes unknowingly. “This is me?”

“Yes,” repeated the reporter, a bit more agitated.

“Oh…” The Minoan actually seemed a bit bothered. “I am more in liking with Nasch’ka. Please, call me that.”

Throwing his arms into the air, the reporter gave up, and soon another member of the media was calling out for another Big Five member.

“Mr. Laurent!” came the voice of an anchorwoman from slightly farther back.

“Yes, Ma’am?” said the silky baritone of the newly appointed pilot as he scratched his chin and smiled at the woman through narrowed eyes. For a moment, she seemed taken aback.

“Uh… Mr. Laurent! You've always been a prime candidate for the Big Five. How does it feel to finally be selected and be piloting Galatea?"

"It feels great to finally be where I belong," started Jud confidently. "Even if it took a bit of waiting to get here." Jud grinned. "And as for Galatea...I always knew I'd pilot her one day; ever since I first laid eyes on her. Good things come to those who wait, apparently." At the end of his short response, a chorus of fan girls screamed with delight.

“Yes,” said the anchorwoman laughingly, “I suppose they do. Now, I also have a question for your partner, Luca Farron. Luca, how does it feel to be the youngest member of the Big Five in history and be maintaining for Galatea?"

“How do I feel?” Luca asked himself, “I feel amazing. This is something I’ve been training for my entire life, so I’m excited to see the results of all my hard work. Being the youngest member is certainly something I’m proud of, but the opportunity to maintain Galatea makes me even prouder. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would make it this far!”

“And how do you feel about working alongside someone as revered as Jud Laurent?”

“I’m very excited,” said Luca with a smile, “I feel honored and a little intimidated to be working with someone so legendary! I hope we get along.”

“Oh, trust me, the pleasure’s all mine,” Jud suddenly said into his microphone, giving the boy a quick wink; a murmur of excitement spread through the crowd, especially the fan girls. Luca opened his mouth, looking a bit puzzled, but the announcer ultimately cut him off.

“Er, next question!”

“Miss Ashell! You've always been a star pilot as far as A.D.A.M.'s concerned,” began a man quickly, taking advantage of the awkward pause, “You and your unit are fairly well known; how do you feel about leaving them for the Big Five?"

Valerie groaned slightly at the question. "....Thanks for giving credit to my guys back at Squad 125, and no, I don't want to leave my current position. Also, I feel like shit and have no plans to join The Big Five."

“Um… oh… okay…” said the reporter who had asked the question; it was clear that he, and really the audience as a whole, had not been expecting that answer. It was a few good moments before another reporter seized the floor.

“Miss Cahlour! I have a question for you!” shouted a reporter from far away; the statuesque Quellian responded with a nod of approval.

"Thank you. So, Miss Cahlour, you're fairly well known from your time in the academy for your maintaining skills as well as your stealth and tracking skills. However, you also have a strong anti-violence background. How will this affect your role in the Big Five?"

"I joined the A.D.A.M. to try to help the world, not hurt it.” Cahlour began, setting her large, elegant hands in her lap, “While being part of the Big Five does include violence, it includes it to help govern the universe - not pull it apart." The crowd responded favorably to this answer, and Cahlour smiled back at them gracefully as she brushed a strand of platinum blonde hair from her face.

“Insolitus,” yelled a Quellian reporter as soon as Cahlour had finished, “as the first person of Quellian heritage to become a pilot, let alone a pilot in the Big Five, how does it feel to have made such a historical impression in A.D.A.M.'s history?"

Sol laughed amiably in response.

"It's quite a lot to take in to be honest. I hadn't exactly set out to make history when I joined the Academy, I just wanted to follow in the footsteps of my father. However, I did make history, so I'll be sure to make it one for the record books."

“We hope so too!” the Quellian reporter said excitedly.

“Alnair,” said a woman at the edge of the stage, "What is the biggest thing you are looking forward to now that you are a part of the Big Five?"

Alnair appeared puzzled by the question. "I don't know," he spoke in a light, inquisitive voice. "No one's told me what a 'Big Five' is. Is it like a big high five or something? I hope it's not too big. I don't like big things. I like small things, like kitties! I used to have a kitty, but it was taken away because you're not supposed to have pets on Mother because I guess she's allergic or something. Do you like kitties?"

“Um… what?”

Alnair giggled.

“Uh… Let’s keep going!” interjected the announcer once again, “You there, sir! Who do you have a question for?”

“Oh, uh, me? Oh, yes, yes! I have a question for Mr. Taran!”

“Please, go right ahead!” said the announcer.

“Oh, alright… Taran,” the man said as he turned to face the young Quellian, “You’re relatively unheard of, but you’re track record from the academy is impressive. How does it feel to make it to the Big Five so soon after graduation?”

"Initially, I was shocked,” began Taran, “There are so many people who have been trying for this spot for years longer than I have and have much more experience. I didn't expect to make it this far, and yet here I am. It's incredible."

“Very nice response, Taran,” the announcer said, relieved to hear a normal answer, “Now, I believe we have time for one more question; it seems the only team member we’ve yet to cover is Miss May Young.”

At the sound of her name, May sucked in a sharp, audible gasp, which was made even louder due to her microphone; no one spoke until the echo died down.

“Miss Young, before this moment, no one knew your name. What does it feel like to be suddenly labeled a celebrity?"

“C-celebrity!?” asked May, her face turning a violent shade of red; as soon as the word has been spoken, a dizzied look overtook the girl and she began to sway dangerously in her chair.

“Um, are you alright?” asked the reporter.

May, unfortunately, was never able to respond to this question; she fainted, falling out of her chair and onto the stage. Several members at the table jumped up to make sure she was alright, and the audience gasped in shock. The press, of course, responded with a flurry of flashing lights.

“Oh, shit!” said the announcer into his microphone, “Uh, well folks, I think that’s all the time we have for today! Please enjoy your stay here on base, and we hope to see you at the reception party tonight!”

[CO]

|-Backstage-|

Sol decided to hang back from all the commotion revolving around May. Sure he was concerned for her well being, but too many people would just make the situation worse, especially if one of those people was as tall as he was.

"Insolitus," someone called out as they noticed he began to walk away.

"Yes sir?" Sol replied.

"The reception begins at 9pm sharp. Don't be late."

Sol merely nodded and began to walk away again. As he retreated he removed his uniform jacket and slung it over his shoulder. He began to whistle a little tune to himself as he walked, which went in great time to the sound of his boots in the empty hallway.

During the time between the press conference and the reception party, Sol didn't get much done. Truth is, he didn't exactly have anything to do. He figured he could change, though he was pretty uncomfortable in any sort of clothes, so it didn't make much of a difference if he just stayed in his uniform.

At 9 o'clock Sol entered the reception hall and was greated by applause. The crowd in front of him bombarded him with questions and praise, making it hard to notice if any of the other members were there yet, let alone his new partner, who he realized now he probably should've tried to introduce himself to before, but he seemed a bit preoccupied at the time. "I'll have to apologize," he said, making a mental note.

"Mr. Insolitus," someone near him said.

"Yes?" Sol replied, looking around.

"I just wanted to say congratulations for your feat. This is quite remarkable..." the man continued on and once he was finished, a Quellian woman came up to him and began saying pretty much the same things. Sol was used to it, however. As was pointed out in the ceremony, he had made history. And since making history, everyone has been saying the exact same things over and over to him. Though in their defense, it was hard to be original after the first five or so people had congratulated him and used up all the different forms of praise.

Grabbing an exceptionally rare moment where someone wasn't trying to talk to him, Sol quickly made his way to the bar to grab himself a drink. It wasn't exactly like he was trying to hide though, he was a good foot and a half taller than most people in the room... plus he was blue. Easily spotted, you see.

The bartender was a bit preoccupied with everyone elses orders, so Sol stayed near the end of the bar, examining an odd shaped bottle of alchohol on a shelf. He squinted his bright purple eyes and rotated his head, much like a dog does when curious about something.

[IceCoffin]

~Valerie Ashell: Hallway, After the Ceremony~

Valerie was not looking forward to this- she did not ever look forward to it, and in her mind, never will.

Yesterday was supposed to be a perfectly normal day. After unpacking her stuff, and moaning about her awful luck to herself, Valerie had fallen dead asleep on her bed, trying to dream the entire situation away. She didn't want to be transferred, and she didn't want to leave Squad 125 behind.

Where would they be without her? What ill-suited captain will the brass assign to them now? In her experience, the military has always been iffy about its choices. Probably because she always found herself to be the iffiest choice of all.

Valerie was just a rough kid from a street gang in Colony 18! There was no reason for her to be here. She had no higher education than primary school, and her appearance practically advertised her past. Valerie was a fish out of water at A.D.A.M., and nobody knew it better than she did.

Ignoring her leadership ability, resilience, quick reflexes, and her tendency to excel once taught, Valerie continued to see herself as an awkward addition in the military. But there was no room for self-pity here, and she knew it. It would only bog everyone down, and the thought embarrassed her greatly.

Valerie slept on these thoughts until she was interrupted by a well-dressed military official. The man was of average height, and looked to be some sort of specialized member of A.D.A.M. Valerie had no idea why he was here, in her room, forcing her out of bed at 1300 hours.

He talked for a lengthy amount of time to her, and Valerie mostly ignored his spiel, preferring instead to stare into space in a half-asleep daze.

"...so, as per the course of events, we have selected you to be a Pilot within The Big Five."

Valerie's daze suddenly broke, and her gaze locked onto the man's blue eyes, "Wait, what?! Where the hell did you get that idea?!"

The man stepped back, surprised, mostly. His training kept him from trembling at her reaction, especially considering that he had experienced worse from surprised Minoans.

"...I just explained the reasons for our decision to you for about ten minutes, m'am."

Fast forward to today, and that was how it all began. This fiasco. To her, it felt like some sort of horrible nightmare that piled every strange decision the brass had made, and then promoted it to the most ridiculous conclusion she could imagine.

Valerie stared down the long hall, dressed in her most formal military attire. At the end of the hall were the doors that led to where the ceremony was held. She groaned, and sighed loudly.

To an extent, Valerie was pleased she survived all that ruckus; with its photographers, noise, and the general ridiculousness of it all. Pomp and circumstance. Ugh. Hopefully this whole thing wasn't set in stone, and hopefully she could decline. To Valerie, it was too unbelievable, at any rate.

"Me. A member of The Big Five. They have got to be shitting me."

The tall woman crossed her arms and shook her head. There was a reception that would start at 2100 hours... Perhaps she could make her decision more apparent by then.

After all, there has to have been at least one person who bowed out of this mess before, right? Right?

Valerie then stormed her way down the hall, away from the stage, and ignoring everyone else along her path. She needed to find someplace where it was okay to punch a wall in. Badly.

[Lenne]

Alnair~after the conference


"Skip to my lou, my daaarlin'~!"

Alnair skipped lightly and merrily across the hall, his short hair bouncing as he went along. The Birzan was still jam-packed with energy, despite the long conference he had just left. He would have had more energy, if it weren't for the fact they had made him sit next to the large, scary-looking quellian they called "Sol"... It had been a while since Alnair had had to be near one of those creatures--and Sol seemed to be the worst! While not nearly as tall as other quellians he had met, Sol seemed so...serious. Like he was just waiting to lunge at poor, tiny Alnair and rip out his throat.

"AAAAH!!!" Alnair just shrieked at the thought, his sculpted body crumbling down to the floor. He just didn't want to be near that "Sol" ever again.

Well, he thought to himself, getting his mind together again. After tonight, I won't ever have to talk to him again!

The thought sent so much glee through Alnair's body that he immediately jumped back up, and began skipping and singing again.

"Skip, skip, skip to my louuuu~!"

As Alnair was skipping, a young boy he had once gone to class with was passing by him. The boy noticed Alnair immediately, and began to run towards him.

"Hey, Alnair!" the boy greeted, waving to his old classmate. "Congratulations!"

But Alnair couldn't hear. He was stuck in his world where people skipped to their lou with their darlings whenever they wanted to. "Skip, skip, skip to my louuuu~!"

The boy suddenly stopped running, noticing the high speed with which Birzan was skipping towards him. "Um...Alnair?"

"Skip, skip, skip to my louuuuu~!" Alnair sang with emotion. He was already causing the hallway to shake, unaware of his own strength.

"Alnair!" The boy was now running away.

"Skip to my lou my daaaar-LIIIIIIIIIIN'~~!!!" He sang ecstatically, screaming that last note. As he did so, he became aware of the young ward coming to congratulate him--only to find him trampled. "OH NO!" Alnair cried, running to the side of the boy. "Speak! Speak to me! I didn't mean to hurt you! Oh, this is just like the time I accidentally squished my mice! PLEASE DON'T GO ASLEEP FOREVER! DON'T DO IT!"

Alnair was practically shaking the boy at this point, who was actually quite okay. "I'M FINE, ALNAIR!" the boy finally cried out, using all his strength to push the Birzan off.

A sigh of relief came out of Alnair. "Oh, boy!" he said, somewhat exasperated. "I was afraid you might've gotten hurt real bad! What are you doing here, mister?"

The boy lifted himself up, brushing himself off. "I just came from the announcement of the Big Five. Congratulations, Alnair! I never would've guessed that you'd make it!"

"Why, thanks, mister!" Alnair got up, posing heroically before this young boy. Then, slowly, he loosened his muscles. "...What'd I do?"

The boy continued on. "The Big Five, Alnair! You made it!"

Alnair looked at the boy as if this were news to him--like he had never been told this a million times before by the officers. Then, slowly, his mind began registering. "Oh, yeah! The Big Five!"

The boy smiled at him, putting his hand out to him. "Congratulations! Man, you're so luck--"

Alnair simply slapped his hand in a big dramatic arm movement, grinning like an idiot. "BIG HIGH FIVE!"

"...Um...okay. But the Big Five, man! You must be proud of yourself!"

Alnair's grin suddenly faded into a quizzical look. "Hm?"

The boy gaped at him. "Alnair! Don't tell me you're not happy about maintaining the Alendraina! I mean...GOD! she's fast! Even more than that, you're working with the first ever Quellian pilot! That's gotta feel good!"

Alnair suddenly froze in terror. "Quellian?" he gulped. "What do you mean?"

"Insolitus! The first ever Quellian pilot! You know, Sol! You and him--"

And the boy didn't have time to finish, for before he could even figure out what had happened, Alnair ran away shrieking and balling.

[Ladafi]

Cahlour ~ Backstage after the conference

A group trying to wake May up and move her out of the limelight had pushed Cahlour back again into the dark. Her pupils widened to be able to see again after so many camera flashes and florescent ceiling lights. Rushes of people moved about. Slipping in with a crowd, Cahlour let herself be jostled off until she reached a doorway, and silently, she slipped through.

Cahlour found herself in a practically empty corridor. She sighed a little, not sure if she was relieved to be out of sight, or if she wanted more of the attention. Her mind jumped back and forth as she stood there for a second, a couple human girls passing by with a burst of congratulations. First things first, thought Cahlour. I need to find Val.

She had heard about Valerie during her time at military school, and knew she was a damn good pilot. Cahlour felt proud to have been paired up with someone with some experience and strength. However, Val's response at the ceremony left Cahlour feeling rather dejected. Was it because of her? Cahlour had never been known for any strong suits, except maybe, some intelligence. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe Val was pissed because she got some inferior maintainer. Cahlour knew she was good, but from the stories she had heard about Valerie, she didn't think she was quite that good.

Cahlour opened the door behind her again and peaked onto the backstage again. The crowd had thinned out, but even seeing over everyone's heads, she couldn't make out her partner anywhere. reporters from the ceremony continued to mingle about, attempting to find loose Big Five members and drill them with interview questions. One saw Cahlour standing in the doorway, and began to jog over. Cahlour slammed the door before she got mobbed, and jogged herself down the hallway and away from the scene. She wasn't in the mood for more questions.

She moved about the halls asking passersby if they knew where Valerie Ashell was. Everyone gave their praises; no one gave Valerie's whereabouts.

As she asked more and more people, a sudden anger overcame Cahlour. What does Valerie have against me? I may not have her merits, but I certainly am a damn good maintainer. Cahlour steamed. You know what? If I'm not good enough for her, then maybe she's not good enough for me. A military personnel had stopped Cahlour a whiles back and told her to not be late for the reception.

I'm going to that God damn reception and I'm going to be dazzling. And fuck those who think otherwise.

Storming off to her room, Cahlour practically ripped her door handle off in anger. She threw her military uniform off and slipped on a sensuous red dress, bright and gleaming, tight against her toned pale muscles. She pulled out her hair from it's military bun and let it cascade down her shoulders like a silky waterfall, and put on some pointed black flats - even in her anger, she couldn't get herself to put on a pair of heels.

Just watch them try to stop me.

She headed off to the reception, a devilish twinkle in her eyes.

I'm going to be the highlight of the party, and I'll show that human who can really make an entrance.

It wouldn't be until much later that night that Cahlour would realize the mistake she was making, and how wrong she really was.

[Gabby]

:: Ɲasch’ka » Big Five Commencement, Eden

Regardless of the shuffle of the room entirely, the thud of the young May’s body shook the air. The Minoan’s particularly sensitive ears twitched, and soon he was leaning across the table before him in attempts to assess the situation. Mild concern blended with a muted hilarity as Nasch’ka fought back a grin that began to pull at the edges of his mouth. The poor girl, he thought to himself as staff and security members swarmed his fellow pilot. It all must be too much for her!

The smile dropped from his face, though, when the woman beside him – his partner, Miss Amelia Lo’lahné Klein – jumped from her seat. Pushing through the others that surrounded the fainted girl, Klein disappeared from view almost entirely. Nasch’ka quickly glanced back and forth to see the reactions of the others sitting next to him, but in the end the Minoan got up as well. He kneaded his way through the people until he made it to the clearing. There lay May Young, face pale, with Klein examining her concernedly.

Klein’s meticulous eyes scanned the young girl up and down, making sure she was okay. She’d done this a few good times before, on her way back up, her sights ran into her new partner. He squatted much like she, elbows resting on his spread legs, his head inclined and staring down at May. There was a strange sort of smile – crooked, yet not cruel – painted on his mouth as he gazed upon her. His shoulders bounced once lightly. It was then that Klein’s mind immediately went to concluding a few things about this Minoan. He was particularly tall for a native of Minos. His skin, a darker but smooth brown, suggested he originated from the hotter regions of the planet. His horns did, too. Barely noticeable to the untrained eye, tiny pock marks dotted them from constant exposure to whipping sands; and shallow cracks, too, appeared in a few places, probably from sparring or other such physical endeavors. His specially-fitted clothes hid his other externalities from view, but the ridges of some upper, external vertebrae peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt.

Nasch’ka glanced over his shoulder to Klein, only to find her quickly snap out of some sort of analytical daze. His brow lifted genially. Above the hum of the other voices, he said: “She is okay! Only in dizzy dreams. Oh, there is English for this…” Klein cocked an eyebrow at his broken English, her mind going back to how he answered his interview question. Nasch’ka reached into his back pocket and extracted a small book, its spine so worn in it was surprising the pages didn’t just fall out. He flipped through the handbook quickly, jade eyes knowing exactly where to look. He pointed and smiled when he found what he sought. “Andam! (Here!) In English i-dee-ohms. I-dee-ohms. Idioms. ‘Out-ta here?’ No. For the baseball. Ah! ‘Out cold!’” he exclaimed. Proud of himself, the Minoan slipped the book back and smiled jovially at Klein once more before turning his attention back to the ‘out cold’ May.

Klein shook the confusion and partial bafflement from her brain and yelled, a bit agitated: “Did anyone call a paramedic?! This girl needs help! And back away! She needs space!”

The first part of May’s consciousness to return was her hearing, but only barely. Compared to the insane volumes of before, she could now only hear a slightly escalating buzz. When voices began to regain their decipherability, however, everything came rushing back at once, including her overwhelming sense of embarrassment and humiliation. Even Nasch’ka, who hovered over her innocently enough, found himself shocked at how quickly a reddish pallor returned to her cheeks. A tad worried, he peered down a bit closer. And that was when May’s eyes shot open.

Reflexively, May’s body jolted upward from the floor, her head colliding with the Minoan’s. The crowd let out a set of oh’s as the two recoiled from the impact, May falling back to the floor and Nasch’ka dropping onto his bottom. Again, Klein watched with a sort of detached disbelief as it all unfolded. Eyes narrowing, the maintainer flung a glare at her partner, who laughed off the pain in his head.

“Orshau’né!” she said, though her mild insult was mixed with a sigh. Nasch’ka blinked. “Sahk nem! (Move!)” Klein pushed past Nasch’ka to tend to the ailing May, whose clenched eyes squeezed out a tear or two. “She needs to get out of here,” Klein murmured to herself. Suddenly, two hands gripped beneath May’s arms and lifted her up gently. Klein looked up to see Nasch’ka, fully recovered.

“If you must me to insult,” the Minoan announced, much to her surprise, “in English, please.” It wasn’t as if he were at all upset like his words might suggest; in fact, the look upon his face was entertained. Gradually, gently, Nasch’ka helped May to her shaky feet. Klein rose up as well, shouting at people to move out of the way as she and her pilot escorted May out of the auditorium.

[IceCoffin]

~Valerie Ashell: Level 3 Sub-Corridor, Wing A13~

Valerie had moved out of the main hall and into a little sub-corridor that could be considered among her usual haunts. It wasn't far from the training grounds attended to by Junior-class students, but it was also somewhat out-of-the-way. And Valerie knew the hall well.

Although now, it seemed that students with inclinations similar to hers have evidently pounded the walls just as she had when she was young. The other side of these walls were actually the blast-shields of a training arena for Pilot-trainees to test their marksmanship.

It was a perfect target for a former ruffian like Valerie herself; the walls were thick, hard, and difficult to crack. They lasted for years without replacement, and since her time at the Academy, both sides have seen plenty of abuse by students.

She remembered when she first discovered this particular section of wall, and the marks were still there: distinct, deep punctures, that were never bested by anyone- not even Valerie herself. She figured that perhaps a Southern Minoan could have made them, but she wasn't sure.

All she knew was that the marks were made by a force strong enough to shatter bone, and that they appeared to have been made by single hits, not multiple punches or kicks. Whoever made them was strong, and more importantly, skilled. And, Valerie knew perfectly well that she wouldn't want to be on the bad side of whoever it was that made them.

That aside, the tall human began to kick and punch the walls in her anger. If any student were to peer down the corridor, they would probably be shocked at the sight of this woman, in full military regalia, beating up this wall in frustration.

While she would normally have tried to beat her target up until her knuckles bled, Valerie was well-aware that it wouldn't get her anywhere, "Just be 'civilized', dammit... Ugh, just be calm... You can get outta this fucking mess once you get to that damn party."

Valerie rested her tried hands on her knees and breathed heavily for about five minutes, trying to collect her thoughts. Sweat poured down her face, and her expression was still one of utter frustration.

God dammit! What right do they have to do this to me anyways?! Oh, yeah, it's the fucking army, Val... Get used to it.

...Shit, just a few weeks ago, everything was fine. Thought I didn't have to deal with this mess. Well, whatever.

Valerie snorted in response to her thoughts, and then sauntered her way out of the corridor. Students stared wide-eyed as she headed back to her dorm to change, and a poorly-disguised group of journalists snapped photos of her.

"Oh, god," she muttered under her breath, "are these sklots stalking me?"

She turned her head to check, and realized some of the more daring members of the group were indeed following her, perhaps intrigued by her comments at the ceremony.

"Fuck!" she spat. And, in no time at all, Valerie set out on a mad dash back to her room.

[Del]

Amelia Lo’lahné Klein, May Young, Nasch’kaja na Avó :: Auditorium --> Dormitory

“If you must me to insult, in English, please.”

Amelia rolled her eyes in response as the Minoan gingerly helped May Young up from her spot on the ground. Standing up with them, the young ambassador began yelling for a path to be cleared, though it did take a bit of fighting for the three to make their way off of the crowded stage.

Once Amelia, Nasch’ka, and May had made their way backstage and out the exit, the trio found themselves in one of A.D.A.M.’s many hallways; being in a more secure area of Eden, there were no reporters here. Amelia breathed a sigh of relief.

“So,” she began, “I suppose we should take you to your dorm room. You need to rest and get ready for the party.” Amelia turned back around to face the pair behind her, auburn hair swaying with motion of her body, and placed her brown eyes on May; the girl responded by meekly looking up from the ground and nodding her head. Shaking her head, Amelia sighed and came a bit closer. “You’re going to have to give me your room number, you know,” she said, empathetically, and although May did not look up from the ground, this time she responded:

“Sorry,” she began, her bangs falling in front of her face, “My dorm is in the third wing, room 337A, and,” she continued, turning her head towards Nasch’ka, “You don’t have to help me anymore, I’m fine now.”

“No, no. Your skin is still of paleness. I give you my shoulder; it is for the supporting,” Nasch’ka insisted. For a moment, May was silent, most likely debating in her head whether or not to continue resistance, though she ultimately nodded her head yes; the Minoan seemed set on helping her. Having just met him, Amelia was not sure what to think of her new partner; however, he appeared to be a well-meaning, though somewhat persistent, person. Turning back around, Amelia began heading in the direction of the dormitory sector. Normally, Amelia would have tried to initiate conversation between the three of them, yet it was clear that talking was the last thing May Young wanted to do.

May herself, half walking, half dragged, followed behind Amelia with her arm around Nasch’ka’s shoulder. He was, of course, uncomfortably taller than she, and May feared many times throughout the journey that her arm would fall from her socket. Behind the curtain of her bangs, May observed the Minoan and his partner more closely. Nasch’ka seemed to be a very cheerful person, though he was virtually unaware of how badly he stood out among others. It wasn’t so much his appearance that produced this affect as it was the way he carried himself. His countenance, although masculine, was softened by his contented smile and glimmering eyes, and the light padding of his feet against the ground added bouncing quality to his gait; Nasch’ka’s blonde hair additionally added to his child-like appearance, though it was balanced out by the smooth brown of his skin. May could tell he was a gentle person, and, suddenly, those bones didn’t look so sharp anymore.

Amelia Klein, on the other hand, gave her a very different impression. Everything about her appeared straight and orderly; even the curves of Klein’s body managed to look sharp. Her straight, auburn colored hair fell past her shoulder blades where it ended in a sharp, horizontal line. Her body, although fairly voluptuous and curved, was tight with muscle, and her height was a good four inches taller than May’s. Amelia walked with purpose, her hips swaying side to side, as if her destination was of utmost importance: the sound of her footsteps beat steadily against the floor like a drum. Hers was a stoic presence, yet there was something about her that kept her from becoming entirely intimidating. It was in the way Amelia Klein carried herself – it was charming and strange – and it was this quality that helped her to remain human.

These two would certainly make an interesting team, May thought to herself; Sunshine and Steel.

May’s observations were cut short, however, by a sudden jolt, and she let out a small squeak of surprise.

“Oh! I am sorry! Tripping are my feet!” said the Minoan as he stumbled slightly, “You think I would be more stability from many earthquakes in my home country, but this is not true. I am also with the clumsiness. Sometimes.” Nasch’ka gave a small chuckle, shaking May a little to show his camaraderie. This, of course, only confused her more. After that, the girl decided to keep her eyes to herself and wait for their trip to be over.

Once the three arrived at May’s dorm, Amelia spoke briefly with the young pilot:

“Make sure you get your rest; you’ll need it for the party. Even though you made it here fine, I’m still a little concerned, so I’ll call Dr. Romero and ask her to check in with you later. If you need me for some reason, here’s my room number,” she said, handing her a slip of paper, “call me on the monitor if you need me. I’ll be in my room until 2100 hours, and then I’ll be going to the reception party.” May simply nodded in reply. She turned, punching in the code for her door, and entered her room. After a few seconds, May turned back around and blurted out a quick thank you before the door closed.

“You’re welcome,” Klein said quietly to herself. Turning around, she came to face Nasch’ka and began speaking. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Nasch’ka.”

“Ah, many thanks to you. It is pleasure to meet, Miss Amelia Lo’lahné Klein!”

“Please, call me Klein.”

“Ah, Miss Klein… though I am in preference to Amelia. For why must I call you Klein?”

“It sounds more Professional.”

“Profesh..onal?” said the Minoan, brow furrowing in confusion. He quickly pulled out the worn pocket dictionary in the pursuit of knowledge from the lapel of his jacket, yet before he could manage to locate the words, Amelia gave him the translation.

“Juru’nam’pa (Professional),” she corrected rather quickly. At first, Nasch’ka was startled, having seemingly forgot her ability to speak Minoan, but he soon remembered in full.

“Ah, yes! You are the one who speaks my language! Endau (Great)! Though I must ask of you to speak in the English. I must improve upon my skills. You must tell me about yourself!”

“Certainly,” Amelia said, politely smiling, “I’ll tell you everything you want to know at the party tonight. For now I think it’s best if we go back to our rooms to rest and get ready.”

“Ah! Yes! I will think of the questions! See you later, Miss Klein!” he said, smiling happily.

“Bra’ahma (Goodbye). Sa unt’vutna ve lér Sha’ula (I will see you later tonight),” she said, smiling back. Turning around, Klein began heading for her room located in section four, though she heard Nasch’ka long after they had parted; the hallway was extremely long, and the sound of Nasch’ka humming and practicing his English echoed back to her ears. Amelia couldn’t help but laugh a little.

[Lenne]

Alnair~a few hours before the party


"Hey, Little Alnair..."

"...S-Sol?"

"You wanna play? I know a game...don't be scared, friend! It's fun! So much so, you'll just die of excitement!"

"N-...NO!"

"Don't even think of moving, Alnair! BiG bRoThEr SOL WiLl HeLp YoU...!"

"NOOOOO!"


---------------------------------------


"NOOOOOOO!"

Alnair woke up screaming, in a deep, cold sweat. Even after waking, he was still convinced that his dream was happening at that very second.

"NOOOOOOO!" He threw his sheets off and began jumping around his room like crazy, trying to shake away the imaginary Sol hovering above him. "No no no no NOOOOOO!!!"

"Hey, would you keep it down in there!?" a voice hollered from across the walls. It surprised Alnair so much that he shrieked in fright. "Jesus CHRIST, man! I'm trying to work!"

Alnair looked around his room, illuminated only by a small, blue night light on his bedside table. Slowly, he took in the scene--his bed, his closet, a few teddy bears, some kitten posters--and realized that Sol wasn't there. With a big sigh of relief, he finally responded to the voice: "Sorry, friend! I hope you still like me!"

A groan was heard as the person in the other room shuffled in their chair.

Alnair, now with his senses mostly cleared, went to his bedside table, where he dug around in its drawers. For the most part, they were full of junk--some cash, his high test scores, his two medals... all useless. But that was his trick, you see, for with all these things, no one would suspect he kept one of his most prized possessions in these drawers. Alnair dug through the stuff that mattered little to him, until his fingers felt something smooth and crisp--a small, folded slip of paper. Delicately, he pulled it out, and unfolded it to show its importance--

It was a drawing of a kitty. A simple drawing, made by the hand of a seven-year-old. It was drawn with red marker, and right next to the kitty was a sloppily written message: foR ALnAiR

It was a drawing Alnair had for as long as anyone could remember. On his first year, when Alnair had a roommate who had once complained to the superiors that Alnair talked way too much--specifically, to this drawing. Yes, Alnair spoke to it as if the drawing were a living thing, as if it were his own kitty for his own comfort, but in no way upset Mother or her supposed allergies. The superiors, at first, took this as a mental disorder, but after further analysis, assessed that Alnair was simply undeveloped, possibly more than most Birzans. Despite his childish understanding, A.D.A.M. knew Alnair showed promise--he was already very quick with maintaining exercises, despite being new, and his mind showed an untapped potential. So A.D.A.M. decided to keep him, even if he did talk to a drawn picture of a kitten.

"I was so scared!" Alnair told the picture, once again seeking its comfort. "I thought Sol was going to make me sleep forever! But it was only a dream!" Alnair looked around again, just to be sure it was just a dream. "I don't want to talk to Sol... but the people say I have to work with him on the 'Big High Five'! Why do Quellians high five anyway? They're already high enough as it is! Why try to go higher? Don't they realize they're scary!?"

A knock came on the door, and Alnair gave a small yelp. "Alnair? This is Dr. Assadullah... may I come in?"

Alnair, with lightening speed, stuffed the picture back into his drawer, and stood upright. "Sir! You can come in here, Sir!"

Assadullah came in, with an air of a man who was not only important, but knew it as well. His stride was powerful, even in the small doorway of his small room. His presence was not amazing physically, but something about the way he carried himself gave him an immense, intimidating... and almost immaculate appearance.

Alnair was somewhat frightened.

"A pleasure to meet you, Alnair," Assadullah spoke, putting his hand out to him. "I'm glad I've finally had the chance."

Alnair was confused by the gesture. Again, as he did before with his peer, he lifted his hand in the air, but dared not go any further. "Big...high five?"

Assadullah laughed, heartily. "They told me you had a sense of humor, boy! At ease!"

Alnair loosened up his muscles, but not by much.

Assadullah continued on. "Anyway, the A.D.A.M. was going to send personnel to tell the new Big Five members about the party to come. I thought that I would remind you myself."

Alnair thought for a second, then his mind registered. "Party!" he said, his grin returning. "Will there be cake?"

Assadullah laughed again, this time slapping Alnair on the back. "God, you Birzans are a crack up! Seriously! If I could choose between designing the Big Five robots and understanding the minds of Birzans, I'd take the latter in a heartbeat!"

"The ladder?" Alnair asked, somewhat confused. "Why would you climb up a ladder?"

With this, Assadullah cracked up. "Oh, God! You're killing me, boy! Killing me!"

"I don't mean to!" Alnair cried, afraid that he was actually killing him.

"Oh dear..." Assadullah wiped his eyes, wet after laughing so much. "That was funny...funnier than when that young May fainted at the conference!"

Alnair suddenly remembered--the poor young girl who had fallen when those people were asking questions.

Anyway," Assadullah continued, "the party starts in an hour, son. Try to wear something nice." Assadullah walked from him, stopping at the door. "A nice tuxedo. I'm sure you have one." He walked out of the door, and was just about to close it, then stopped. "It was a pleasure to meet you, soldier. I hope to work closer with you in the future..." And with that, he made a quick salute, and shut the door.

Once Assadullah was out of the room, Alnair felt he could breathe easier again. His small room now seemed comfy and not crowded. Alnair took in a deep breath, relishing the fact that he was gone. The man was not nearly as big as a Quellian, but Alnair felt like he could envelope the room in a second--a big black hole.

But then Alnair remembered--the young girl they called May. She had fallen in the middle of the conference. Alnair felt kind of bad for her, that she was so tired to fall asleep right in the middle of something like that. He remembered her height...small, and nice.

He smiled. "Small and nice..." he said quietly to himself. The thought of something small made him happy, especially after having dealt with imaginary Sol and the tremendous Assadullah. He thought that maybe May was like him...maybe May liked small things too, and the big conference room wore her out, just like Assadullah wore him out mentally.

Alnair's smile broke into a grin. He decided that if he saw the young "May" girl again, he would give her a nice, big hug--but not too big!

[Lily]

.:Jud Laurent:. - A.D.A.M. HQ -

During the press conference, Jud couldn’t help but keep his eyes on Luca. Ever since the boy had sat next to him, his mind had been occupied with thoughts he probably shouldn’t have been thinking. Not only were they inappropriate for the occasion, but probably so in general. His gaze was nearly predatory; and yet, it was softened somehow by that cocky grin that adorned his face.

He leaned forward slightly placing his elbows on the table, and lacing his fingers together where he rested his chin. Through his narrowed eyes he analyzed the boy’s figure.

Luca Farron, he thought. Damn.

Even through his uniform, Jud could tell that Luca’s body was the perfect mix of boyish charm and fitness. He kept coming back to his hair, which was a shade of strawberry blonde. Finding the boys soft lips, Jud, being the nymph he was, couldn’t help but fantasize, his smile widening ever so slightly.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he had said to the boy, following up with a quick wink.

Luca probably had no idea what he actually meant by that, unless of course, he was aware of Jud’s colorful past behaviors.

As May fainted on stage, Jud’s head quickly snapped to her direction; smile disappearing from his mouth. His dark hair swished slightly—bangs falling back into place as he began to stand from his chair to help the girl. No sooner, however had he stood, was she already swarmed with a group of people.

“Heh,” he muttered in a deep tone, grinning slightly once more.

He turned towards the wing of the stage that he had entered and nonchalantly began to walk away, stopping only once to give another cursory glance at his partner over his shoulder. He playfully winked once more at Luca before disappearing behind the curtain completely.

As he exited through the stage doors, he quickly looked the left and to the right, then proceeded down the hall. He took an elevator activated by retinal scan. Half of the lift was made of a transparent, nearly indestructible material that overlooked a rather bright galaxy. The view was quite beautiful.

Jud had always enjoyed looking at the stars.

When the elevator had reached its destination, some A.D.A.M personnel that congratulated him greeted Jud. He acknowledged their praise with a simple nod before meandering on down the corridor. Just one right turn, and a walk through a tunnel made from the transparent material in the elevator brought Jud to the hall where his room was.

Upon entering, he quickly disrobed, carelessly throwing his clothes the floor. He fell to his bed, landing on his back with his arms outstretched. His legs dangled over the edge at the knee. He let out a deep sigh and stayed there for a moment.

As he looked up at the lighting fixture that illuminated his room, he began to smile.

Not in his usual cocky grin, but in a genuine way.

“I MADE IT TO THE BIG FIVE!” he suddenly yelled in a victorious voice.

He quite literally jumped from his bed. He paced around his room in nothing but his briefs congratulating himself and excitedly punching the air. He was pumped. He finally got what he wanted. After all those years of waiting…and he got something extra too.

His mind drifted to Luca, his maintainer.

Walking to a floor length mirror that was seamlessly set into the wall, Jud looked himself over, licking his lips slightly. He scratched his stubble with his left hand looking lovingly at himself through the mirror. His eye went to his tattoo. He flexed slightly, imagining himself in his new pilot gear.

He then removed his underwear, in an almost stripper like fashion, and headed to the shower.

Somehow it was already almost time for the reception.

[turkoizdog]

When Taran had initially come to the ceremony, he assumed he'd be the most nervous newbie there. After all, he was constantly biting his lip and wringing his hands. He may have displayed several nervous habits through the course of the day, but at least he was conscious.

His partner, May Young, had fainted over the idea of being a celebrity. While most of the Big Five members snuck off backstage, Taran felt an obligation, as her partner, to make sure she was alright.

Why did they have to stick me, the nervous newbie, with the one person who is more nervous about this than I am?

Instinctively, Taran placed the back of his hand on May's forehead. He then realized that this told him nothing. Well, it told him that she didn't have a fever, but that's about it. It wasn't going to make her come to and it wasn't going to make her stop being nervous.

Taran then realized that, in all likelihood, he may very well end up being the one to try and raise May's confidence, instead of what he needed, which was a partner that would raise his. Or maybe the act of raising May's confidence would raise his? Well whatever happened, he just didn't want her to faint again, especially if they were in the middle of battle.

However, then Klein and her Minoan partner (whose name Taran couldn't pronounce and would probably never be able to) came to help. Klein waved everyone back and, not wanting to anger her, stepped back. Then, Klein and her partner whisked May Young out of the auditorium. The crowd dispersed, some following Klein and others leaving on their own, leaving Taran by himself.

So his partner fainted and he did nothing to help. Instead, another duo whisked her off to her dorm. Combined with the fact that he walked out there without realizing that she wasn't behind him, he was making one hell of a first impression.

After letting the thoughts mull over in his mind, he decided he should return to his room and rest. Then maybe he'd be able to wake up, refreshed, and things would get better.
Maybe.

[IceCoffin]

~Valerie Ashell: A-Level Deck, Dorm no.321A~

Valerie sat atop her bed and let out a loud, long sigh. Although, she couldn't help but grin, too. As inconveniencing as they were, dodging reporters was fun. Spending three years here in training allowed her to know this great ship much better than they did...

Valerie rolled off the bed and sat upright, unsure as to what to do now. While it may have been exciting and fun to dodge the reporters- zipping down halls, making tricky turns, all that jazz- Valerie had also wasted a perfectly good hour. She made a quick glance at the time: 2045.

"Oh, shit! That damn party!"

Valerie scrambled to get herself ready. She really didn't bring anything party-ready with her: most of her luggage was still en-route. But, she could at least make herself.... more presentable.

Valerie undressed herself, placed her sweat-drenched uniform in her hamper, and stepped into the shower. About ten minutes later, she popped out again, clean, and searched hastily for something to wear.

There wasn't much to wear, but thankfully, she kept a blank dress uniform for occasions such as this. Valerie took the decorations off the original sweat-drenched mess and quickly placed them on the spare jacket. Once finished, she slipped it on, and pondered the skirt.

It wasn't her thing, really. A few women in service at A.D.A.M. wore the skirt as an option, but many preferred the pants. But, it was the only thing she had at the moment.

Valerie groaned after some thought, and then slipped the skirt on. It felt... strange. But, it would have to do. Valerie put her shoes back on, and stepped out of her room.

She was going to be late to the party, but it didn't exactly matter. Valerie was more interested in finding a way of getting the brass to recognize that she didn't want this position. Besides, I'd still have reporters to dodge: they love a good controversy.

With that in mind, Valerie smugly closed her door and began to walk down the hall, unaware of what was waiting for her at the reception.

[Del]

Luca Farron :: Ceremony --> Room ---> Party

After May had fainted, Luca Farron did not stick around for long. The press conference had been a disaster to begin with, but she was the cherry on top of the whole fiasco.

Making it to his room, Luca shut the door and locked it behind him. He flopped heavily onto his bed and there he lay for quite some time; the day had exhausted him. Still, despite the chaos, it had been a good one. He had made it to the Big Five.

Smiling to himself, Luca turned on his side and hugged his pillow to his body. Additionally, his partner, his pilot, was Jud Laurent! The thought of working with such a seasoned veteran both frightened and excited him. It was surely something he would be looking forward to… though he did have to admit that something seemed a little odd about Jud Laurent.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he had said.

What on earth could he have meant by that? Luca supposed it was possible that he himself had a reputation, however small, but the comment had made him feel slightly… uncomfortable. Luca contemplated this for only a moment before brushing it off.

“I better get ready,” he said quietly into his pillow. He gave himself five more minutes, and then, taking in a heavy breath, he rolled out of bed and undressed for his shower. A minute later, he stepped into the shower, placed himself beneath the hot water, and let it run down his body for a solid ten minutes before actually washing himself. He had always been one to take long showers.

Roughly thirty minutes later, Luca was back in his bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist and dripping wet. He dried off quickly, throwing his towel on his bed, and walked to his closet naked. Yet before he slide his closet door open, Luca did something that he usually did not do.

He examined himself in the mirror…

… and although the boy was beautiful, all he saw was ugliness. Scars, pink with age, wrapped around him like snakes, clawing, biting, and breaking his skin, poisoning those unfortunate enough to look upon him.

Something inside of him began to hurt as he gazed at those old wounds… he remembered each one with clarity.

Before he could traverse too far, however, Luca tore himself from the recesses of his mind; he had a party to attend. Sliding the closet door open a little too quickly, Luca hastily grabbed his military formals. He threw them on, wanting only to cover his body, and walked out the door.

His journey to the ballroom was silent.

Once he had arrived, Luca managed to slip in relatively unnoticed. The party was well under way, so the reporters were distracted for the most part. Luca was relieved.

He soon found a corner to stand in, trying to remain relatively unnoticed in his fragile mood, and sat down at a table. Luca rested his head in his hands, lowering his body until the table piece guarded his face from view.

“Hello, Luca.”

His body tensed.

This voice. Luca knew this voice all too well; he didn’t have to turn around to realize it was Akbar Asadullah.

“Luca,” he said, moving closer from behind, “I just wanted to congratulate you on making it to the Big Five. Quite an impressive feat for one your age… Then again, I always knew you would… I always knew you were special.”

Paralyzed by the snake-like quality of his voice, all Luca could do was stare forward, his fists on the table.

“And I’m so happy that we’ll be able to keep working together even as---”

“What!?” Luca interjected suddenly, whirling around in his seat to come face to face with the doctor. “I’ve completed my training! I’m in the Big Five now! I’m done with your experiments!” he yelled, his face beginning to burn, his eyes already blazing damply. The doctor chuckled.

“Oh, you’re done with that experiment, Luca. However, I did create the Big Five, did I not? You really thought that I would have no involvement in something as major as that?” Asadullah smiled sweetly. “Well, I suppose you’re still a child after all… I’ll be looking forward to working with yo---”

“You can su---”

“Excuse me,” came the voice of a woman. Both Luca and Asadullah looked in the direction of the voice. It was a reporter. “Sorry to interrupt, but do you have some time to answer a few questions for me, Dr. Asadullah?”

“Of course,” said Asadullah, brightening suddenly, “Let us go somewhere more private!”

“Oh, certainly,” she said excitedly, “I’ll wait for you by the buffet!”

“No need, I’ll accompany you. Let me just say goodbye to my friend,” he said, turning to Luca. Leaning down, Asadullah placed his head by Luca’s ear, “Goodbye, Luca…”

And then he was gone.

Luca could only stare at the table before him.

He had been so stupid, to think he had been rid of Asadullah…

So very stupid…

[Gabby]

:: Ɲasch’ka » Big Five Commencement, Eden

Nasch’ka doggishly shook his wet hair dry in front of the clouded bathroom mirror. Through the streaks now cutting through the fog, he watched as it settled unevenly and a bit chaotically. It never swept to just one side. Even through all of the zero gravity and the lack of an atmosphere, his hair appeared just as it did back home: like he’d just gotten out of a sandstorm. Hastily, the Minoan cleared a small circle on the mirror so he could see his entire face. While most might try to make themselves seem appealing, Nasch’ka instead contorted his expression in laughable (and even sometimes disturbing) ways. He didn’t remain there long, though, before sauntering out into his bedroom, steam rolling in at his heels.

He walked around completely naked for a while; he considered it “air drying.” In the meantime, he stared thoughtfully down at the suit spread across his bed. It was a nice suit, to be sure. But, he felt, no matter how much they were tailored, the formal clothes – or any clothes, for that matter – that the people from Earth and A.D.A.M. found appropriate were not that comfortable. Particularly for someone like him. The thought of the oftentimes scratchy and stiff material scraping against his bones plastered a grimace to his usually content countenance. But after a few moments of deliberation, Nasch’ka stretched, cracked nearly about every inch of his skeleton, and began to dress.

Though he said little out loud, the words in his mind raced at immeasurable speeds. Layers upon layers of thought stacked themselves in his brain. Was this really happening? Why him? Would he do well? What sort of things would he see? Have the people back home heard? Are they proud? Or do they condemn him for leaving? Would his partner like him? Would he get along with the team? What amazing things would they do together? What will it be like to pilot Desdemere? All of these questions and more flashed through his consciousness. He was not bothered by the lack of answers, however; an apparently perpetual and wide grin split his cheeks. His happiness could not be eroded by anxiety. It was just that potent.

On his way to the dinner, Nasch’ka noticed that, on more than one occasion, a reporter would jump up at the sight of him, but then settle back down after a second and refrain from asking questions. Forehead wrinkling, the Minoan wondered why this was. (And it would probably pain him to know that it was, in fact, because his English skills made an interview that much more difficult for a reporter.) But, as mentioned before, Nasch’ka didn’t necessarily need attention; he generated enough excitement within himself. The fancy food and receptions were only a plus to the situation. And even when he finally made it to the reception hall, decorated elegantly and crowded with other notable people, his level of joy remained constant. Though, he didn’t exactly know what he was supposed to do when he got there. Looking around for a moment, the Minoan’s jade eyes spontaneously settled on the bar. All the smiling had made him a bit thirsty.

“What can I do ya for?” the bartender asked shortly after he arrived at the counter. The man seemed a bit busy, so Nasch’ka figured he’d save him some trouble by ordering something relatively simple.

“Milk, please.”

The bartender nodded at first but then did a double take. “Wait… what? Just milk?”

Nasch’ka laughed. “Yes! That is, unless you are to have,” he leaned in, as if it were some sort of secret, “chocolate.”

“Uh, sure thing, pal.”

“My thanks to you!” he shouted over the hum of the others, still grinning. Tapping his fingernails against the countertop, the Minoan scanned the area briefly before a tall glass was slid towards him. He almost took a sip before the bartender made his way over to him again and dropped a blue paper parasol into it. Nasch’ka sat up, noticeably entertained by this new development.

“I thought you might enjoy that,” the bartender noted as he dried another glass. He got a kick out of the Minoan’s enthusiasm, but not in a disdainful way.

“These things, they make me happy,” Nasch’ka admitted half to himself and half to the bartender. He shook his head at his own silly entertainment. He picked up the parasol, closed and opened it once more, before plopping back into his chocolate milk. He proceeded blowing into his straw, making the milk bubble upward. He stopped after that, though, and assumed a more “appropriate” demeanor. Standing up straight, he leaned against the bar almost suavely. That’s when he noticed a familiar face stationed at the far end of the bar. Nasch’ka, eager to approach, downed his milk in one sip, leaving but then returning to pocket the parasol.

“Naskasas!” he greeted amiably. “Insolitus they call you, yes?” Nasch’ka held out his hand.

[CO]

|-Ceremony-|

Sol had finally gotten his drink, which was an interesting shade of neon orange in this odd twisting glass. Sol sat there taking small sips out of it as he heard chatter all around him. To his right he had heard that another member of the Big Five had entered the party. "Finally," Sol thought,"now maybe I'll have someone to talk to besides these... people." He thought it best not to say anythings insulting, even if it was in his own mind and no one could hear him.

To his left he could hear a Quellian talking to a human about making plans to head to Earth. The human was gently trying to talk the Quellian woman out of it, but she was pretty set in going. But it wasn't a very interesting conversation, so Sol tuned them out as well and turned back to the bar.

He tipped the glass and drained the last of the orange liquid out of his glass and placed it back on the bar. He stood there for a moment before tapping his fingers on the surface out of boredom, but it didn't last for too long.

“Naskasas!” Sol heard to his left. "That sounds Minoan," he thought to himself. Though he didn't know how to speak or understand the language, Sol had always listened intently when he heard Minoans speak their native language, always wanting to know more about it.

Sol turned to look at his fellow Big Five Pilot Nasch'ka.

“Insolitus they call you, yes?” Nasch’ka asked as he held out his hand.

"Yes," Sol said, shaking his hand. "You may call me Sol though if you'd prefer, some people don't like using the full name. Nevertheless, you must be Nasch'ka yes? It's great to formally meet you."

The bartender came back and refilled Sol's glass with that same orange liquid and waited there for a moment. "Can I get you a drink friend?" Sol asked Nasch'ka.