Arknights One Shots

Feeling (Ptilopsis and Lappland)

A/N: The strange friendship dynamic I have for these two. If you read The Untold Series you've seen it firsthand. With that said let's get to it!

******

"Operator Lappland. Do you have a moment?"

Lappland, who had been busy maiming yet another training dummy, turned to look at the source of the noise. It was late evening, and many of the other operators had already retired to their rooms for tonight. But her thoughts had kept her awake, all the memories of before making her limbs itch to do something, anything besides laying limply in bed as she stared at the ceiling for hours. So she found herself here, with Ptilopsis apparently.

The woman regarded her with owlish eyes, staff strapped to her back for once. "If you don't, this can wait for another time." A gesture to the many other destroyed dummies with a sweep of one hand. She wondered what Ptilopsis made of all the carnage. Perhaps she was busy wracking up the kills in her technical mind, or maybe she was weighing the pros and cons of continuing this conversation. After all the hours of fighting some part of her felt sated, enough so that she was willing to do the last bit necessary to give her a proper sleep: tire out her brain.

Lappland stabbed the dummy one final time before shoving her swords back into their holsters. Sweat beaded at her hairline as she blinked slowly. "Just finished up here. What did you need?

Ptilopsis nodded. "Good. Follow me."

Without any explanation Ptilopsis was turning and walking back down the hall. Exasperated, Lappland followed close behind. Together the pair perused the third level hallway until they reached the office where Ptilopsis worked. Precise unlocking of the door happened with a swipe of a card in the authentication scanner to let them in.

Lappland went over to the first available chair and plopped down into it, not feeling the need to take in her surroundings all that much. It wasn't like it was her first time in this space after all. The metallic walls were standard to many of the other offices in the aircraft. Charts were plastered on the left side, a bookshelf set into one wall where a tiny plant took residence on the top shelf, catching the thin ray of light from the window above when the sun shined. Ptilopsis's desk sat in front of her chair, with the desk chair waiting on the other side for Ptilopsis to take it. The owlish woman did so with the same mechanical movements the white wolf had grown accustomed to.

"So will you tell me what this is about now?" She asked.

With Ptilopsis, there was always a meaning to these meetings.

Lappland just couldn't fathom what it was the other needed from her.

I hardly seem like the person she would come to with an inquiry, and yet . . .

There was something about the way Ptilopsis sat in her chair. For once, her posture wasn't the ramrod straight look. Slouched over, the doctor looked worse for wear, far more human than she had ever been previously. If Lappland had to describe the expression on Ptilopsis's face . . . the closest thing was a smile.

"Yes, affirmative. I'll tell you now."

"Okay. What then?" While her body yearned for sleep —having been properly tired out— her mind knew helping out Ptilopsis was important. The owl was basically the first friend she made here.

"What are feelings?" The question was all but blurted out, so rushed a normal person might have missed it.

But not Lappland.

She titled her head, processing the quickly uttered strand of words. "Feelings? I'm sorry, but I'm going to need more than that if you want me to help."