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(GW) garou, chapter 34, first two scenes
I'll answer to people's ficcage later, promise. I did read them -- even tho I shouldn't have because I should have been translating. XD
Also have a mini rant on a stupid review I got, but i'm fighting the urge to wank in public.enable me plz.
*translate translate*
The infiltration was rather easy, finally. It was snowing lightly, and the guards' visibility was considerably shortened. On top of that, the soldiers were distracted from outside threats by the conference being held at this very moment, knowing that if something went wrong between Romafeller and OZ they'd have to react very fast, and the two factions spent almost as much time glaring at each other than watching their surroundings.
In the end, Trowa and Quatre didn't even need to attack anyone. Trowa was noticed twice while he opened the way, and since he was wearing an OZ uniform and moved like he knew exactly where he was going, no one ever thought of stopping him.
It was going way too easily for Quatre's peace of mind. He just hoped the dozen of contingency plans he was thinking up would be enough.
* * *
The meeting was dragging its metaphorical heels. Noin was bored to tears; everyone was prattling on and dancing around subjects, and the only things she needed to do were stand behind Zechs, watch the exits and the other assistants, and hand over documents and references in case he needed them. Which rarely happened because Zechs' memory worked just fine and he remembered what he needed to support his arguments on his own.
Finally, his Romafeller counterpart concluded and got up, and she sighed discreetly, relieved. End of the meeting?
Apparently not, because now they were back to exchanging empty and apparently innocent politeness. She didn't listen to the exact words; one of the reasons why she'd never rise any higher in the ranks was her total lack of interest for underhanded, poisoned barbs wrapped in smooth smiles that were so necessary to politics.
As long as Zechs had been able to concentrate on concrete decision, he'd been in perfect control, but when the enemy Colonel leaned toward him with a falsely friendly smile, patted his shoulder paternally and asked with solicitude how he was feeling these days, he growled. Noin jumped. He was growing tense, as if about to pounce. Neither Zechs nor General Kushrenada, nor Une, Otto or herself had managed to determine to which point the animal stayed present during the waning moon, and she had hoped...
Noin rushed to his side, touched his arm to distract him, and asked in a mildly concerned tone: "Still that cold?"
It was one of the worst lies she'd ever tried, but she couldn't think of anything else. She could see the Rommies watch them strangely and could only hope that Zechs play along. Luckily, Zechs got it and started coughing softly, as if trying to control a huge coughing fit. Cutting short the usual post-meeting proceedings, Noin excused them both and guided him -- or dragged him -- out of the room, firmly pushing out of her mind a vision of muscles tearing under her hand, of a mouth full of fangs snapping closed on her throat. Otto followed, expressionless, placing himself on the other side of the Colonel the second the heavy door of the meeting room closed behind them.
"Zechs?"
He growled again, his face slowly twisting in anger. Otto and Noin exchanged an alarmed look, wondering if they should run.
"Zechs, calm down. What's the problem?" she asked calmly, hoping to get his aggressive instincts to go back to sleep.
He didn't answer, pushing them off before stalking with long steps down the corridor. Reaching the end, he turned left without hesitation. Noin tried to follow, bus Otto held her back.
"Give him some space, Lieutenant," he advised.
She acquiesced, horrified. It was the first time since the full moon that he... that he... relapsed. There, that was a relapse, she told herself as she followed him, giving him a wide berth. It was an illness, a catastrophe even, but not a curse. He was still the man she'd met at the Academy. He just had a ... problem.
A problem they were still trying to define limits and conditions of. A problem that was more than probably highly contagious, and could prove fatal for his circle of friends and subordinates.
Otto tapped her shoulder, pulling her out of her musings.
Not waiting for them, the blond man was advancing in the corridors without hesitation, as if following something. He hesitated sometimes at crossroads, but, following clues that Noin and Otto couldn't discern, always found the tracks again.
Finally they arrived to a computer room. Zechs stepped over the knocked out guards without even looking at them; Otto checked that they were alive while Noin followed Zechs inside, weapon in hand.
Zechs checked the room thoroughly, growling once again when he caught sight of a computer just as it went back to sleep mode.
"They left."
"Are you sure?" Noin asked, finishing her methodic check of the rows of desks.
Zechs opened his mouth as if he was going to snap back rudely, then closed it and nodded instead. Noin felt a knot of fear untie inside her; he was going back to normal.
"I'm sure," he affirmed in a still intense, but not as aggressive voice. "I'd ... smell them."
It always threw her to be reminded of his senses.
"Can you guess how long ago they left?" Otto asked calmly as he joined them inside.
The blond man shook his head, clearly frustrated.
"Not that long..."
He sighed and, giving way to his frustration, hit the wall with his fist.
The air vent grate detached from the wall slowly and fell on the floor, clanging loudly. At the very end of the tunnel, something that could have been a rat disappeared in another conduit. Except it was a shoe.
"... I see what you meant," Noin commented in a strangled tone as she reached out to hit the alarm.
+
Okay, it's all fresh from translation, meaning that grammar horrors and typos and wrong words abound. If you catch one, please tell me because I suck and probably won't notice. ;_;
Also have a mini rant on a stupid review I got, but i'm fighting the urge to wank in public.
*translate translate*
The infiltration was rather easy, finally. It was snowing lightly, and the guards' visibility was considerably shortened. On top of that, the soldiers were distracted from outside threats by the conference being held at this very moment, knowing that if something went wrong between Romafeller and OZ they'd have to react very fast, and the two factions spent almost as much time glaring at each other than watching their surroundings.
In the end, Trowa and Quatre didn't even need to attack anyone. Trowa was noticed twice while he opened the way, and since he was wearing an OZ uniform and moved like he knew exactly where he was going, no one ever thought of stopping him.
It was going way too easily for Quatre's peace of mind. He just hoped the dozen of contingency plans he was thinking up would be enough.
* * *
The meeting was dragging its metaphorical heels. Noin was bored to tears; everyone was prattling on and dancing around subjects, and the only things she needed to do were stand behind Zechs, watch the exits and the other assistants, and hand over documents and references in case he needed them. Which rarely happened because Zechs' memory worked just fine and he remembered what he needed to support his arguments on his own.
Finally, his Romafeller counterpart concluded and got up, and she sighed discreetly, relieved. End of the meeting?
Apparently not, because now they were back to exchanging empty and apparently innocent politeness. She didn't listen to the exact words; one of the reasons why she'd never rise any higher in the ranks was her total lack of interest for underhanded, poisoned barbs wrapped in smooth smiles that were so necessary to politics.
As long as Zechs had been able to concentrate on concrete decision, he'd been in perfect control, but when the enemy Colonel leaned toward him with a falsely friendly smile, patted his shoulder paternally and asked with solicitude how he was feeling these days, he growled. Noin jumped. He was growing tense, as if about to pounce. Neither Zechs nor General Kushrenada, nor Une, Otto or herself had managed to determine to which point the animal stayed present during the waning moon, and she had hoped...
Noin rushed to his side, touched his arm to distract him, and asked in a mildly concerned tone: "Still that cold?"
It was one of the worst lies she'd ever tried, but she couldn't think of anything else. She could see the Rommies watch them strangely and could only hope that Zechs play along. Luckily, Zechs got it and started coughing softly, as if trying to control a huge coughing fit. Cutting short the usual post-meeting proceedings, Noin excused them both and guided him -- or dragged him -- out of the room, firmly pushing out of her mind a vision of muscles tearing under her hand, of a mouth full of fangs snapping closed on her throat. Otto followed, expressionless, placing himself on the other side of the Colonel the second the heavy door of the meeting room closed behind them.
"Zechs?"
He growled again, his face slowly twisting in anger. Otto and Noin exchanged an alarmed look, wondering if they should run.
"Zechs, calm down. What's the problem?" she asked calmly, hoping to get his aggressive instincts to go back to sleep.
He didn't answer, pushing them off before stalking with long steps down the corridor. Reaching the end, he turned left without hesitation. Noin tried to follow, bus Otto held her back.
"Give him some space, Lieutenant," he advised.
She acquiesced, horrified. It was the first time since the full moon that he... that he... relapsed. There, that was a relapse, she told herself as she followed him, giving him a wide berth. It was an illness, a catastrophe even, but not a curse. He was still the man she'd met at the Academy. He just had a ... problem.
A problem they were still trying to define limits and conditions of. A problem that was more than probably highly contagious, and could prove fatal for his circle of friends and subordinates.
Otto tapped her shoulder, pulling her out of her musings.
Not waiting for them, the blond man was advancing in the corridors without hesitation, as if following something. He hesitated sometimes at crossroads, but, following clues that Noin and Otto couldn't discern, always found the tracks again.
Finally they arrived to a computer room. Zechs stepped over the knocked out guards without even looking at them; Otto checked that they were alive while Noin followed Zechs inside, weapon in hand.
Zechs checked the room thoroughly, growling once again when he caught sight of a computer just as it went back to sleep mode.
"They left."
"Are you sure?" Noin asked, finishing her methodic check of the rows of desks.
Zechs opened his mouth as if he was going to snap back rudely, then closed it and nodded instead. Noin felt a knot of fear untie inside her; he was going back to normal.
"I'm sure," he affirmed in a still intense, but not as aggressive voice. "I'd ... smell them."
It always threw her to be reminded of his senses.
"Can you guess how long ago they left?" Otto asked calmly as he joined them inside.
The blond man shook his head, clearly frustrated.
"Not that long..."
He sighed and, giving way to his frustration, hit the wall with his fist.
The air vent grate detached from the wall slowly and fell on the floor, clanging loudly. At the very end of the tunnel, something that could have been a rat disappeared in another conduit. Except it was a shoe.
"... I see what you meant," Noin commented in a strangled tone as she reached out to hit the alarm.
+
Okay, it's all fresh from translation, meaning that grammar horrors and typos and wrong words abound. If you catch one, please tell me because I suck and probably won't notice. ;_;