It's early in the morning when Stocke heads over to the infirmary, a nipping chill in the air, dapples of sunlight reaching only the top levels of Alistel's capital city. His breath huffs out in soft puffs of white until he ducks his head deeper into his scarf; still, Stocke doesn't seem to be too bothered by the cold. It's better than yesterday's rain.
He's quiet as he ducks through the doorway and passes by stretchers, footsteps leaving not so much as an echo behind him. Quieter still as he settles into a chair beside one of the infirmatory beds. There's the barest flicker of relief on his face - easy to miss if you don't know him - as his eyes scan over the occupant; it's followed by a small, fond smile.
Rather than waking Rosch, Stocke sits back to wait, the fingers of his Gauntlet clenching and unclenching absently. It's only a few moments before he leans back and snags a pair of tools off the nearby endtable. He sticks one in his mouth and uses the other to pry open a panel in his arm and fiddle with the calibration.
It's only when Rosch's eyes start to open that the agent sets them aside and leans over. "Glad to see my bad feeling didn't pan out," he drawls.
He leaves a moment or two for the soldier to splutter or otherwise react before adding, more softly, "I heard your brigade got in late last night." Circumstances aside, "It's good to have you back."
The huge man lying in bed appears to be sleeping peacefully, despite the IV leads fastened to his right arm, while his left arm was, well... rather lacking. The Gauntlet had been removed for maintenance, due to excessive water damage, according to Sonja's report. Though, it should by all rights have been able to withstand the inclement weather. Very puzzling indeed...
Rosch's eyes flutter open and he's greeted with a familiar sight: the inside of Alistel's infirmary. How many times has he ended up here now? Often enough that he's basically been assigned his own bed in a corner near the window. He groans, eyes scanning the room momentarily before settling on Stocke, who is leaning over him with a somewhat smug look on his face.
"I may not be dead, but I kinda wish I was right now..." Rosch attempts to cover his face with both hands before realizing that his left arm, the Gauntlet, is missing. "And depending on how badly I wrecked the Gauntlet this time, Sonja just might be the one to do me in."
His eyes roll toward the ceiling and another heavy groan escapes him. What the hell did he do to the Gauntlet that would warrant it needing such intensive maintenance? His memory concerning the matter is still a bit fuzzy...
He doesn't have long to ponder before Stocke speaks again. "Good to be back," he says, offering a weak grin and a thumbs up. "Almost blew it there at the end, but we managed to get the intel we needed..." His grin wavers a bit. "...Right?"
He's fairly certain they saved their agent this time...
"Right," Stocke confirms, though now - now he's giving Rosch a bit of a strange look, one that transitions to worried. Rosch's injuries are already bad enough - did he manage to get some head trauma along with it? "He got past the lines with your brigade holding them off."
Though the way Stocke hears it, it was mostly Rosch holding them off, with the returning brigade singing their Sergeant's praises. It was as if he always knew what the enemy was going to do just before they did it.
Stocke sits back, watching the soldier more carefully now, but all he says is, "I'll hold Sonja off until you recover." A faint smirk. "Then it's all you."
After a moment, the agent tilts his head. Then, with the air of someone delivering a message he's been forced to, he adds, "...Heiss has a job offer for you when you get out of here, as usual." Dry. He knows Rosch isn't going to take it; he fits in the army far too well. All that sneaking about and spying isn't his style, forget the occasional assassination.
The next's a bit stranger; Stocke'd be lying if he said he wasn't a bit curious. But who knows why Heiss does what he does, half the time. "And he wants to know if that book he gave you was any good."
He nods, though the look of worry on Stocke's face doesn't go unnoticed. At least now his concerns over the fate of his brigade are assuaged. He really did manage to change the past and save Raynie and Marco from the Executioner...
Not exactly a thought he wants to dwell on at the moment, especially while his body is still aching from the earlier battle.
Better change the subject and lighten the mood a bit: "I'll owe you big time, I swear! You can run my bar tab up this evening, the sky's the limit!" He laughs heartily, but a jab of pain cuts him short. Wincing, he clutches at his abdomen. He can feel the sutures beneath the bandages. "Damn, I could sure go for a stiff drink right about now..."
A moment passes and the pain subsides. The tone of distaste as Stocke delivers his message is mirrored in Rosch's expression. "Heiss just doesn't know when to quit, huh?" He frowns, turning his gaze toward the window. "When is he gonna get it though his head, huh? I'm just not cut out for that kinda work."
It's not just the distaste for backstabbing that keeps Rosch out of Specint business: he's just too honest to be a spy. His emotions telegraph too easily in his gestures, and aside from that, he's a terrible liar. Everyone knows that, and Heiss should know that by now.
When Stocke makes mention of the White Chronicle, Rosch's shoulders visibly stiffen. His gaze returns to Stocke, eyes widening in obvious surprise. What the hell? Why would Heiss mention something like that? Does that mean he's truly ignorant of the Chronicle's power, as Rosch had earlier surmised?
Which brings to mind Teo's warning not to, under any circumstance, mention the existence of the White Chronicle to anyone, or else there would be Dire Consequences.
And here he is, faced with his best friend—whom he can't breathe a word to about the Chronicle—being pointedly asked about said Chronicle.
Naturally, Rosch panicked. "Book? Er... what book? I don't know what you're talking about!" He rubs the back of his head, laughing weakly. "Heiss must be playing one of his games again, putting out false intel and seeing if you'll fall for it!"
Yeah, that's gotta be it. Clearly. It's not unheard of that Heiss offers such "tests" for his subordinates from time to time. Rosch hopes that his little fabrication will be enough to throw Stocke off the trail...
...and there's a slight chance that it would have worked if the Chronicle hadn't been laying on the bedside table in plain sight. Which, of course, Rosch has only just now noticed.
Well crap.
It'd take a miracle from the Prophet himself to cause someone as sharp-eyed as Stocke to miss out on such an obvious detail.
Let's be honest here: the book wouldn't even need to be nearby for Stocke to call him out. What was Rosch just thinking about being really bad at lying...?
The agent raises an eyebrow at him without looking at the bedside table, though his gaze slowly slides in that direction after a second or two. When he returns it to Rosch, his expression is wry.
With nearly anyone else, Stocke wouldn't let that go by. Heiss generally has the best interests of Alistel in mind; if he's asking about a book, it's probably important. And Rosch is acting - well, really suspicious. But Rosch isn't anyone else; he's Stocke's best friend, and he's loyal to the nation as a dog, perhaps more so than Stocke himself. He wouldn't do any intentional harm.
Besides, Heiss is... weird about Rosch. Stocke plays along - having him as buffer tends to keep Heiss at a more comfortable distance - but it's not like he hasn't noticed. Hell, near all of Specint has. There's all forms of gossip about what Rosch is to their secretive leader. If Heiss gave Rosch a book, it's far more likely to have been one of the man's unsettling favours or attempts at recruitment than anything dangerous.
"What do you want me to tell him?" Stocke asks, instead of pushing the subject.
The grin stiffens on Rosch's face as his friend's gaze slides to the Chronicle. For a tense moment, he thinks Stocke will call him out on his baldfaced lie, but his fears are quickly allayed with that wry look. Rosch lowers his arm and sighs through his nose: he knows the Specint agent is just itching to pry into such a tantalizing secret, but their close relationship means he'll let the matter slide.
For the time being, at least.
As much as he'd love to spill the beans on the Chronicle to his best friend, Rosch makes a mental note to keep it better hidden from now on.
His brows furrow a bit as Stocke requests a response. "Tell him I said my answer's the same: not interested." He could add something about Heiss shoving his job offers where the sun don't shine, but a curt reply is probably for the best.
Besides, he has a feeling that Heiss will just hunt him down and pounce on him the second Sonja signs the release forms, anyway. So long as he's stuck here, he's safe.
At that moment someone gently knocks at the door, and a familiar voice calls out: "It's me, Sonja, I'm coming in!" The young woman pushes the door open with her hip while pulling a small gurney covered by a white cloth. Based on the drape of the fabric, its obvious that there's a Gauntlet underneath, most likely a replacement for Rosch.
"Oh, Stocke, you're here too?" she asks, catching sight of the Specint agent. Normally, she would shunt any visitor out during an exam, but this was Stocke, after all, and he'd been stuck in the infirmary as often as Rosch. "How's your Gauntlet? Do you need any maintenance? The weather's been awful lately, so you need to make sure there's no moisture building up inside."
Rosch can't help but chuckle a bit. Given half a chance, Sonja will find any excuse to fiddle around with their Gauntlets. Her concern over their maintenance borders on near obsession, though not without good reason.
Edited (critical spelling error and some tense shifting) 2017-06-24 01:12 (UTC)
Stocke straightens when he hears the knock, twisting in his seat to face the door; he's not all that surprised to see Sonja, and he gives her a soft smile. "Surprised not to see me on a bed?"
The agent stands, stretching, and moves aside to give her room to pull the gurney in. He hooks his chair after him with one leg.
At Sonja's question, Stocke raises his Gauntlet, swiveling the wrist and bending fingers open and shut. The thaumachinery makes a quiet whirring noise, clicking as the joints bend. "Doing fine."
It always looks... just a little bit inelegant, on Stocke. Too large even with the size and armouring pared down to the basics. But he makes it work well enough for him.
The Specint agent glances over his shoulder. He did promise Rosch he'd fend Sonja off for a bit... "But I'd appreciate if you took a look at it once you've got Rosch's attached. Heiss is sending me out again tonight."
Sonja's likely to take it way easier on him than she would on Rosch; he's not the one at fault. This time.
Her chuckle should be answer enough. "Pretty much," she says, sparing Stocke's Gauntlet a cursory look. Her gaze softens a bit. Though inelegant in design, it is still her deceased brother's finest piece of work, and its the sole reason that Stocke is still alive today. "It sounds like everything is running smoothly, but I'll take a closer look at it, just in case."
Of course, as soon as Stocke mentions being sent out on another mission, Sonja's brows knit in worry. "So soon? It seems as though you've just come back from your last mission."
Rosch, for his part, frowns a bit as well. It's not like Heiss can't send one of his other agents out from time to time. "Can't be helped," he says. "That intel we acquired concerns the enemy's movements, so we need to act on it as soon as possible."
"I know," Sonja says. "And we can't let your hard work go to waste, can we?" She offers Rosch a warm smile. "Now, let's check your vitals and see how you're doing, shall we?"
Rosch nods in response, feeling his face warm at the sight of Sonja's smile. Damn, she's so cute when she smiles like that! Though, he has the wherewithal to avert his gaze once she starts her examination. It would be pretty rude to make googly-eyes at her with Stocke right there in the room, considering the agent was basically her surrogate brother by this point.
Once she's finished her examination, she scribbles a few notes on her clipboard. "You seem to be progressing well, and your fluid intake is within the normal range." She glances at the IV drip. "I think we can go ahead and attach the Gauntlet now, but I'd still like to keep you overnight. The attachment processes puts an additional strain on the body, and you're still recovering from your injuries."
"Fine by me," Rosch says. He grins in Stocke's direction. "Besides, the beds in the infirmary are way more comfortable than the ones in the barracks, am I right?"
"Okay, then let's get started!" Sonja's eyes sparkle with that tell-tale gleam whenever she gets fired up about her work. She yanks the dropcloth off the gurney to reveal Rosch's Gauntlet...
...except not really, because this is definitely not the same model that Rosch wore on his mission that fateful morning.
The huge soldier stares at it in silence for several moments, blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny and obvious distaste. If Stocke's Gauntlet is the epitome of practicality, then this Gauntlet is a testament to craftsmanship. The chassis is smooth, polished to a mirror-shine, with silver filigree climbing along its length. The fingers have been painstakingly crafted with the highest amount of articulation, the inner workings cleverly hidden. There are even fingernails made of what appears to be ceramic, just for added realism!
"What the hell is this? Where's the Belial Claw?" Rosch flicks his gaze toward Sonja, the frown never leaving his face.
The look on Sonja's face is enough to turn his blood to ice water. Though her tone is syrupy-sweet, her smile is tight with barely restrained fury. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take me to clean all the silt from your Gauntlet? Not to mention having to flush the lubrication system, re-calibrate the actuators, and replace all the damaged wiring?"
Suddenly, he feels like a man just realizing he's walked straight into a minefield. His gaze flickers between Sonja and Stocke, and an attempt is made to stifle a small whine building in the back of his throat.
Stocke shakes his head slightly - not a denial of 'So soon?', exactly, but an 'It's not a big deal.' "It's a short mission, anyway. I should be back before Rosch's brigade is mobilized again."
That's if nothing goes wrong, of course. Which is a very high bar to set. But so far Stocke's been pretty good at getting himself out of scrapes.
The Specint agent grins to himself when he notices Rosch's blush. He settles against a wall, leaning back and crossing his arms, and looks away himself as Sonja performs her examination. The sounds of the infirmary around them are a quiet murmer of constant, low voices, spells, and the bustle of footsteps; Stocke listens for anything out of the ordinary, more out of habit than anything.
He looks back in time to see Sonja pull the sheet free - and then groans internally as he sees Rosch's expression, much as he agrees with the sentiment. Rosch, no, don't -
Too late.
Rosch, buddy. Pal. How in the Prophet's name do you expect him to save you from Sonja's wrath if you antagonize her?
Stocke only keeps half an ear on the resulting outburst, pushing himself away from the wall and approaching the gurney. He scrutinizes the new Gauntlet with a critical eye - it's very elegantly made, but he's not sure how well it'll stand up to battle; it almost looks like a noble's Gauntlet, were Alistel to have that sort of thing. It's a good thing it's only a temporary solution.
Actually... "Sonja, where did you get this Gauntlet?"
It might work as a distraction, and besides, Stocke has a nagging feeling....
Sonja leaves off on her lecture to address the Specint agent. "Well, I made it, of course!" She smiles, eyes gleaming with unabashed pride. "This latest model is a culmination of the most advanced thaumatech engineering techniques to date! A chromium alloy infrastructure means added strength while reducing the overall weight, not to mention resistance to corrosive elements, making it suitable for humid climates." She runs her fingers lovingly along the filigreed design. "The actuators include Mana crystal conductors to facilitate synaptic responses between the wearer and the Gauntlet, resulting in smoother, more natural movement. Plus, the Mana crystals act as an auxiliary power source, effectively boosting the wearer's magic." Her gaze focuses on Stocke at that last part. "A spell-caster like you could definitely benefit from one of the newer models."
As Rosch listens to Sonja enthusiastically explain the new Gauntlet's capabilities, his brows knit in confusion. His thoughts echo those of his friend: this looks like something that belongs to a noble, or maybe one of the top brass in the military. And as for boosting spell-casting power? Rosch can manipulate Mana in his own way, but he's by no means a spell-slinger like Stocke or Rayine.
Which begs the question: Why loan someone like him such a sophisticated Gauntlet?
"That's... really impressive, Sonja." He has the good sense to look a little abashed at having insulted her work earlier. It really was beautifully crafted, after all. "But why lend something like this to me? Wouldn't it be more suitable for someone like Stocke?"
Sonja averts her gaze and clasps her hands at the level of her waist. "Well, that's because it was made specifically for you, Rosch." She looks a bit shamefaced. "While I can claim credit for the actual labor involved in its construction, the one who engineered its design was actually... Heiss. Everything was based on his specifications, right down to the last detail."
Oh. Well. That explains everything.
"I should've known..." Rosch groans, pressing a hand to his forehead.
First the White Chronicle, now this new Gauntlet? These so-called "gifts" were starting to feel increasingly suspicious. What sort of strings might be attached to them, waiting to be yanked at a later point in time?
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risingstones2016-06-14 06:00 pm
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He's quiet as he ducks through the doorway and passes by stretchers, footsteps leaving not so much as an echo behind him. Quieter still as he settles into a chair beside one of the infirmatory beds. There's the barest flicker of relief on his face - easy to miss if you don't know him - as his eyes scan over the occupant; it's followed by a small, fond smile.
Rather than waking Rosch, Stocke sits back to wait, the fingers of his Gauntlet clenching and unclenching absently. It's only a few moments before he leans back and snags a pair of tools off the nearby endtable. He sticks one in his mouth and uses the other to pry open a panel in his arm and fiddle with the calibration.
It's only when Rosch's eyes start to open that the agent sets them aside and leans over. "Glad to see my bad feeling didn't pan out," he drawls.
He leaves a moment or two for the soldier to splutter or otherwise react before adding, more softly, "I heard your brigade got in late last night." Circumstances aside, "It's good to have you back."
literally a year and a day later....
Rosch's eyes flutter open and he's greeted with a familiar sight: the inside of Alistel's infirmary. How many times has he ended up here now? Often enough that he's basically been assigned his own bed in a corner near the window. He groans, eyes scanning the room momentarily before settling on Stocke, who is leaning over him with a somewhat smug look on his face.
"I may not be dead, but I kinda wish I was right now..." Rosch attempts to cover his face with both hands before realizing that his left arm, the Gauntlet, is missing. "And depending on how badly I wrecked the Gauntlet this time, Sonja just might be the one to do me in."
His eyes roll toward the ceiling and another heavy groan escapes him. What the hell did he do to the Gauntlet that would warrant it needing such intensive maintenance? His memory concerning the matter is still a bit fuzzy...
He doesn't have long to ponder before Stocke speaks again. "Good to be back," he says, offering a weak grin and a thumbs up. "Almost blew it there at the end, but we managed to get the intel we needed..." His grin wavers a bit. "...Right?"
He's fairly certain they saved their agent this time...
...This time?
What an odd thought to cross his mind.
I LIVE TOO
Though the way Stocke hears it, it was mostly Rosch holding them off, with the returning brigade singing their Sergeant's praises. It was as if he always knew what the enemy was going to do just before they did it.
Stocke sits back, watching the soldier more carefully now, but all he says is, "I'll hold Sonja off until you recover." A faint smirk. "Then it's all you."
After a moment, the agent tilts his head. Then, with the air of someone delivering a message he's been forced to, he adds, "...Heiss has a job offer for you when you get out of here, as usual." Dry. He knows Rosch isn't going to take it; he fits in the army far too well. All that sneaking about and spying isn't his style, forget the occasional assassination.
The next's a bit stranger; Stocke'd be lying if he said he wasn't a bit curious. But who knows why Heiss does what he does, half the time. "And he wants to know if that book he gave you was any good."
no subject
Not exactly a thought he wants to dwell on at the moment, especially while his body is still aching from the earlier battle.
Better change the subject and lighten the mood a bit: "I'll owe you big time, I swear! You can run my bar tab up this evening, the sky's the limit!" He laughs heartily, but a jab of pain cuts him short. Wincing, he clutches at his abdomen. He can feel the sutures beneath the bandages. "Damn, I could sure go for a stiff drink right about now..."
A moment passes and the pain subsides. The tone of distaste as Stocke delivers his message is mirrored in Rosch's expression. "Heiss just doesn't know when to quit, huh?" He frowns, turning his gaze toward the window. "When is he gonna get it though his head, huh? I'm just not cut out for that kinda work."
It's not just the distaste for backstabbing that keeps Rosch out of Specint business: he's just too honest to be a spy. His emotions telegraph too easily in his gestures, and aside from that, he's a terrible liar. Everyone knows that, and Heiss should know that by now.
When Stocke makes mention of the White Chronicle, Rosch's shoulders visibly stiffen. His gaze returns to Stocke, eyes widening in obvious surprise. What the hell? Why would Heiss mention something like that? Does that mean he's truly ignorant of the Chronicle's power, as Rosch had earlier surmised?
Which brings to mind Teo's warning not to, under any circumstance, mention the existence of the White Chronicle to anyone, or else there would be Dire Consequences.
And here he is, faced with his best friend—whom he can't breathe a word to about the Chronicle—being pointedly asked about said Chronicle.
Naturally, Rosch panicked. "Book? Er... what book? I don't know what you're talking about!" He rubs the back of his head, laughing weakly. "Heiss must be playing one of his games again, putting out false intel and seeing if you'll fall for it!"
Yeah, that's gotta be it. Clearly. It's not unheard of that Heiss offers such "tests" for his subordinates from time to time. Rosch hopes that his little fabrication will be enough to throw Stocke off the trail...
...and there's a slight chance that it would have worked if the Chronicle hadn't been laying on the bedside table in plain sight. Which, of course, Rosch has only just now noticed.
Well crap.
It'd take a miracle from the Prophet himself to cause someone as sharp-eyed as Stocke to miss out on such an obvious detail.
no subject
The agent raises an eyebrow at him without looking at the bedside table, though his gaze slowly slides in that direction after a second or two. When he returns it to Rosch, his expression is wry.
With nearly anyone else, Stocke wouldn't let that go by. Heiss generally has the best interests of Alistel in mind; if he's asking about a book, it's probably important. And Rosch is acting - well, really suspicious. But Rosch isn't anyone else; he's Stocke's best friend, and he's loyal to the nation as a dog, perhaps more so than Stocke himself. He wouldn't do any intentional harm.
Besides, Heiss is... weird about Rosch. Stocke plays along - having him as buffer tends to keep Heiss at a more comfortable distance - but it's not like he hasn't noticed. Hell, near all of Specint has. There's all forms of gossip about what Rosch is to their secretive leader. If Heiss gave Rosch a book, it's far more likely to have been one of the man's unsettling favours or attempts at recruitment than anything dangerous.
"What do you want me to tell him?" Stocke asks, instead of pushing the subject.
no subject
For the time being, at least.
As much as he'd love to spill the beans on the Chronicle to his best friend, Rosch makes a mental note to keep it better hidden from now on.
His brows furrow a bit as Stocke requests a response. "Tell him I said my answer's the same: not interested." He could add something about Heiss shoving his job offers where the sun don't shine, but a curt reply is probably for the best.
Besides, he has a feeling that Heiss will just hunt him down and pounce on him the second Sonja signs the release forms, anyway. So long as he's stuck here, he's safe.
At that moment someone gently knocks at the door, and a familiar voice calls out: "It's me, Sonja, I'm coming in!" The young woman pushes the door open with her hip while pulling a small gurney covered by a white cloth. Based on the drape of the fabric, its obvious that there's a Gauntlet underneath, most likely a replacement for Rosch.
"Oh, Stocke, you're here too?" she asks, catching sight of the Specint agent. Normally, she would shunt any visitor out during an exam, but this was Stocke, after all, and he'd been stuck in the infirmary as often as Rosch. "How's your Gauntlet? Do you need any maintenance? The weather's been awful lately, so you need to make sure there's no moisture building up inside."
Rosch can't help but chuckle a bit. Given half a chance, Sonja will find any excuse to fiddle around with their Gauntlets. Her concern over their maintenance borders on near obsession, though not without good reason.
no subject
The agent stands, stretching, and moves aside to give her room to pull the gurney in. He hooks his chair after him with one leg.
At Sonja's question, Stocke raises his Gauntlet, swiveling the wrist and bending fingers open and shut. The thaumachinery makes a quiet whirring noise, clicking as the joints bend. "Doing fine."
It always looks... just a little bit inelegant, on Stocke. Too large even with the size and armouring pared down to the basics. But he makes it work well enough for him.
The Specint agent glances over his shoulder. He did promise Rosch he'd fend Sonja off for a bit... "But I'd appreciate if you took a look at it once you've got Rosch's attached. Heiss is sending me out again tonight."
Sonja's likely to take it way easier on him than she would on Rosch; he's not the one at fault. This time.
no subject
Of course, as soon as Stocke mentions being sent out on another mission, Sonja's brows knit in worry. "So soon? It seems as though you've just come back from your last mission."
Rosch, for his part, frowns a bit as well. It's not like Heiss can't send one of his other agents out from time to time. "Can't be helped," he says. "That intel we acquired concerns the enemy's movements, so we need to act on it as soon as possible."
"I know," Sonja says. "And we can't let your hard work go to waste, can we?" She offers Rosch a warm smile. "Now, let's check your vitals and see how you're doing, shall we?"
Rosch nods in response, feeling his face warm at the sight of Sonja's smile. Damn, she's so cute when she smiles like that! Though, he has the wherewithal to avert his gaze once she starts her examination. It would be pretty rude to make googly-eyes at her with Stocke right there in the room, considering the agent was basically her surrogate brother by this point.
Once she's finished her examination, she scribbles a few notes on her clipboard. "You seem to be progressing well, and your fluid intake is within the normal range." She glances at the IV drip. "I think we can go ahead and attach the Gauntlet now, but I'd still like to keep you overnight. The attachment processes puts an additional strain on the body, and you're still recovering from your injuries."
"Fine by me," Rosch says. He grins in Stocke's direction. "Besides, the beds in the infirmary are way more comfortable than the ones in the barracks, am I right?"
"Okay, then let's get started!" Sonja's eyes sparkle with that tell-tale gleam whenever she gets fired up about her work. She yanks the dropcloth off the gurney to reveal Rosch's Gauntlet...
...except not really, because this is definitely not the same model that Rosch wore on his mission that fateful morning.
The huge soldier stares at it in silence for several moments, blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny and obvious distaste. If Stocke's Gauntlet is the epitome of practicality, then this Gauntlet is a testament to craftsmanship. The chassis is smooth, polished to a mirror-shine, with silver filigree climbing along its length. The fingers have been painstakingly crafted with the highest amount of articulation, the inner workings cleverly hidden. There are even fingernails made of what appears to be ceramic, just for added realism!
"What the hell is this? Where's the Belial Claw?" Rosch flicks his gaze toward Sonja, the frown never leaving his face.
The look on Sonja's face is enough to turn his blood to ice water. Though her tone is syrupy-sweet, her smile is tight with barely restrained fury. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take me to clean all the silt from your Gauntlet? Not to mention having to flush the lubrication system, re-calibrate the actuators, and replace all the damaged wiring?"
Suddenly, he feels like a man just realizing he's walked straight into a minefield. His gaze flickers between Sonja and Stocke, and an attempt is made to stifle a small whine building in the back of his throat.
You'd better not forget your promise, Stocke!
no subject
That's if nothing goes wrong, of course. Which is a very high bar to set. But so far Stocke's been pretty good at getting himself out of scrapes.
The Specint agent grins to himself when he notices Rosch's blush. He settles against a wall, leaning back and crossing his arms, and looks away himself as Sonja performs her examination. The sounds of the infirmary around them are a quiet murmer of constant, low voices, spells, and the bustle of footsteps; Stocke listens for anything out of the ordinary, more out of habit than anything.
He looks back in time to see Sonja pull the sheet free - and then groans internally as he sees Rosch's expression, much as he agrees with the sentiment. Rosch, no, don't -
Too late.
Rosch, buddy. Pal. How in the Prophet's name do you expect him to save you from Sonja's wrath if you antagonize her?
Stocke only keeps half an ear on the resulting outburst, pushing himself away from the wall and approaching the gurney. He scrutinizes the new Gauntlet with a critical eye - it's very elegantly made, but he's not sure how well it'll stand up to battle; it almost looks like a noble's Gauntlet, were Alistel to have that sort of thing. It's a good thing it's only a temporary solution.
Actually... "Sonja, where did you get this Gauntlet?"
It might work as a distraction, and besides, Stocke has a nagging feeling....
no subject
Sonja leaves off on her lecture to address the Specint agent. "Well, I made it, of course!" She smiles, eyes gleaming with unabashed pride. "This latest model is a culmination of the most advanced thaumatech engineering techniques to date! A chromium alloy infrastructure means added strength while reducing the overall weight, not to mention resistance to corrosive elements, making it suitable for humid climates." She runs her fingers lovingly along the filigreed design. "The actuators include Mana crystal conductors to facilitate synaptic responses between the wearer and the Gauntlet, resulting in smoother, more natural movement. Plus, the Mana crystals act as an auxiliary power source, effectively boosting the wearer's magic." Her gaze focuses on Stocke at that last part. "A spell-caster like you could definitely benefit from one of the newer models."
As Rosch listens to Sonja enthusiastically explain the new Gauntlet's capabilities, his brows knit in confusion. His thoughts echo those of his friend: this looks like something that belongs to a noble, or maybe one of the top brass in the military. And as for boosting spell-casting power? Rosch can manipulate Mana in his own way, but he's by no means a spell-slinger like Stocke or Rayine.
Which begs the question: Why loan someone like him such a sophisticated Gauntlet?
"That's... really impressive, Sonja." He has the good sense to look a little abashed at having insulted her work earlier. It really was beautifully crafted, after all. "But why lend something like this to me? Wouldn't it be more suitable for someone like Stocke?"
Sonja averts her gaze and clasps her hands at the level of her waist. "Well, that's because it was made specifically for you, Rosch." She looks a bit shamefaced. "While I can claim credit for the actual labor involved in its construction, the one who engineered its design was actually... Heiss. Everything was based on his specifications, right down to the last detail."
Oh. Well. That explains everything.
"I should've known..." Rosch groans, pressing a hand to his forehead.
First the White Chronicle, now this new Gauntlet? These so-called "gifts" were starting to feel increasingly suspicious. What sort of strings might be attached to them, waiting to be yanked at a later point in time?