Harbinger

[Sombs]

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January 15th, 825 - Omicron Delta

Sometimes, walking around on Freeport 11 felt weird. Ezrael was here quite often, especially after the Battle of Carthage. He knew what was likely to happen when he entered the station. When there was no battle taking place outside, the halls and corridors of Freeport 11 were filled with people, both the population of the station and the crews of moored ships and landed snubs and freighters. It was messy, quite often.

"If I was a nomad, where would I walk around..." Ezrael sounded, talking quietly to himself, blaming Maren in his mind for not being able to think about anything else but said nomad on the station. What was that about anyway? An incubus? Very likely. So she told him an infectee was around. The thought surprised him, as he thought there were more of them on the station at any time. But apparently, only one. Or only one he was supposed to know about. Walking down a hallway, followed by two Kishiro Service Robots who had their orders to fetch stuff and take care of the payments, Ezrael frowned in thought. Obviously he wondered where he was not supposed to be right now in order to avoid the nomad. Curiousity however demanded the opposite from him. After all, Maren didn't say he wasn't allowed to take a look at the entity. Interfering was not allowed, that was all. Not that Maren was likely to care about miswording.

Reaching the central hall, the athletic man looked around, the Kishiro Service Robots leaving him in order to proceed with their tasks. There was a little bit of air circulation, causing his hair to wave a little. Shaking his head to get it in place again, he heard his neck cracking. It sounded worse that it was, obviously, yet it caused him to frown, placing a hand at his neck, his head lopsided, the eyes staring unfocused into the nothingness. So many people around. It was hard to get a focus on anything. If there was a nice looking woman, that would have been the exception, but right now there wasn't. "Ergh," he breathed, feeling slightly embarassed about the thoughts he just had, shaking his head slightly. In his usual sovereign appearance, he made a few steps forward, eyeing the people around him, trying to be as aware as possible of his environment. Maren surely wouldn't have allowed him to enter the station if the nomad was dangerous to him in an active way, so he didn't really worry about this one. Yet there were enough other weird people on Freeport 11.

There was a short moment. The eyes of a woman passing by had anchored at him. She was probably just taking in the sight, there weren't many men with his appearance. Long black hair, healthy body, slightly buffed, tall, dressed in a rather shape-revealing, skin-tight overall in a dark color, matching gloves and boots while the torso was covered by an open black leather jacket. And the stupid scar at his eye, as he still refused to have it removed. Smirking, Ezrael returned the looked at the woman. A blonde, long legs, Core uniform. Did she know him? She passed by, slightly smiling at him, and his eyes followed her until she started to disappear in the mass of people. As his glare began to unfocus, he noticed a strange feeling. Like a chill running down his spine. It was weird, and caused him to blink multiple times. Was someone staring at him? Looking around in a sudden confusion, he felt attracted to look in a certain direction. "I'm not here to interfere with anything," Ezrael said quietly into the nothingness, apparently adressing nobody by how quietly the words were spoken. He knew incubi would be able to understand them nevertheless.

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Uncharted System Stories: 18 | 32 | 34 | 37 | 38 | 85

Templates: Character | Transmissions

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