Talveka turned to face her. She and a few-hundred others, all still scattered around the field, were generally taking souvenirs from the carcasses of their quarries and scavenging to see if any still survived, drenched black like he was. They were the best of the best in her garrison, many wounded but none mortally so. They would have time to grieve for those who had lost their lives in this valiant massacre later, but now was the time to relish in the triumph. Her mods were gleeful seeing their decisive victory, none of them paying Talveka any heed as they searched the fields for anything more they could kill.
The soldier who had spoken, though, did not seem to be sharing the glory. Fluf, if Talveka remembered her name correctly–sometimes they blended together, she had to admit–her wavy hair in a tumbleweed, one of her pointed ears torn half-off and her scarlet eyes fatigued. She was speckled with blood, but her claws were sheathed, no fire of battle left in her.
Or had it ever been in her? Talveka couldn't remember anything about Fluf, except that perhaps she was representative of an unwelcome minority within Exquisite's ranks. Someone who was not committed–perhaps, though Talveka hated the term, adverse–to the mission. Fluf' face was vacant of anything but a strange hatred, a kind of loathing Talveka couldn't comprehend.
"How many did we lose to make this happen?" Fluf said, her voice wrought with horror, her balefully empty gaze on Talveka. "How many fires 'snuffed out,' as you would say?"
"Does it matter?" Talveka said. She was smiling, even relaxed, even in the violent aftermath. "All of us burned brighter than we ever have been or ever will be again in this glorious victory. We have truly lived in this killing. We are victorious."
"Against what?" Fluf said. She was silent for a second, staring at the mangled remains of day-vamps and night-claws all spread for miles around. "...What have we won against Dusk? What have we achieved in doing this?"
Talveka smiled as though a mother staring upon her naive daughter. A minority, then. "Fluf," she chided gently. "You are Massacre. You are of fire and the ray. You have this right. This is nothing to be ashamed of."
"Is that what you think I am?" Fluf said. She stared back, seeing the remaining soldiers still ignorant of everything around them as they scavenged the fields. "Ashamed. I suppose so."
The soldier who had spoken, though, did not seem to be sharing the glory. Fluf, if Talveka remembered her name correctly–sometimes they blended together, she had to admit–her wavy hair in a tumbleweed, one of her pointed ears torn half-off and her scarlet eyes fatigued. She was speckled with blood, but her claws were sheathed, no fire of battle left in her.
Or had it ever been in her? Talveka couldn't remember anything about Fluf, except that perhaps she was representative of an unwelcome minority within Exquisite's ranks. Someone who was not committed–perhaps, though Talveka hated the term, adverse–to the mission. Fluf' face was vacant of anything but a strange hatred, a kind of loathing Talveka couldn't comprehend.
"How many did we lose to make this happen?" Fluf said, her voice wrought with horror, her balefully empty gaze on Talveka. "How many fires 'snuffed out,' as you would say?"
"Does it matter?" Talveka said. She was smiling, even relaxed, even in the violent aftermath. "All of us burned brighter than we ever have been or ever will be again in this glorious victory. We have truly lived in this killing. We are victorious."
"Against what?" Fluf said. She was silent for a second, staring at the mangled remains of day-vamps and night-claws all spread for miles around. "...What have we won against Dusk? What have we achieved in doing this?"
Talveka smiled as though a mother staring upon her naive daughter. A minority, then. "Fluf," she chided gently. "You are Massacre. You are of fire and the ray. You have this right. This is nothing to be ashamed of."
"Is that what you think I am?" Fluf said. She stared back, seeing the remaining soldiers still ignorant of everything around them as they scavenged the fields. "Ashamed. I suppose so."