Radiance: Part One

V6: Whiskey, neat

Aut the 21st, 2694 CE; 1500 hrs

"I think these are probably the coolest shoes I've ever owned." Darmah smiled down at her feet, now clad in a pair of increased-sensitivity hyper polymer shoes. While Vyrik was glad that the young woman was happy, he hadn't seen Captain Lyda in several hours and had a boiling feeling at his core that made him worry. He had even commed Healer Eryk to check in on her out of sheer paranoia, to his own dismay.

"Her numbers aren't great," Eryk had said, "but she's also not in the red, anywhere. She'll just need a nap. She's always been really resilient. I don't think you should be so worried."

He sat in the mess hall with the rest of their usual group, sans Lane and General Wei, busy elsewhere. Across the table, Eryk's affections for Darmah were more obvious than anything he'd ever seen- he was beginning to grasp a vague understanding of human attraction. While they didn't Glow in the literal sense, they definitely still had a glow. It was nice to be certain, though. Humanity seemed to be full of too many uncertainties.

After finishing their midday meals the group parted ways, leaving Vyrik alone in the hallway just outside of the mess hall, in the calming artificial light. After the previous days' stresses, he found a small solace in the emptiness of the space as he made his way to his quarters.

To his surprise, there was someone standing in front of his door, facing it, hands on her hips with quite the detached look on her face. Her red hair was in a neat bun and she wore a tailored navy blue jumpsuit- looking all the more put together, for as anxious as he'd been. It was quite a relief to know he'd just been paranoid- just to the side of annoying. He wasn't used to having so little control over his impulses.

He approached her, making no effort to conceal his presence, managing still to frighten her with a hand on her shoulder. He jerked away as she jumped and spun on her heel to face him. A range of emotions flitted across her face in a span of moments; irritation, to surprise, to happiness, to anxiety.

"Have you been waiting for me to open the door?" he grinned at her playfully.

"No- yes...well I hadn't even knocked yet. I was kind of...getting up the gumption." she lightly toed the ground, avoiding eye contact with her hands in her pockets. "I just...I don't know. This was a bad idea. Sorry-I'll just..." she moved to walk past him, "I'm gonna..."

He stopped her, grabbing a hold of her sleeve as he let the concern seep into his face.

"What's the matter?" he cocked his head. "I'm not busy, did you need something?"

"I..." She took a subtly shaking breath, "Can I talk to you ...in private?"

"Of course, come in." He ushered her through the door and it whirred closed behind them.

She turned to face him, anxiety painting her usually-confident features.

She shook her head and the words seemed to tumble out, "I wanted to know if you've ever handled anything like this... mass casualty?"

He found himself taken aback. "Ah-er...No. I haven't. No one has well and truly died in over a millennium, other than my mother. My father has witnessed it, though. He saw much of it in the war." He crossed his arms over his chest and straightened his posture. "Did you have trouble with the families of the deceased?"

She took a deep breath. "No, no I think I did alright. That's not the part that I'm worried about. I can give all kinds of news, I knew I was strong enough to do it, as much as I didn't want to. I just need to know how to deal with the mental fall out of it. On my end." She leaned her back against the wall by the door and slid down it to sit on the floor with her legs bent at the knees in front of her and her arms crossed protectively over her chest. "This isn't something they just go over at a leadership conference. Grieving affects everyone in a different way."