The Islander's Armor

Gypsy stood in front of a large mirror tightening the left strap of her shoulder armor. Her expression was unreadable, and her short, shaggy, sandy-blonde tresses shifted gently into her soft-caramel eyes. The soldier's tattoos were hidden by plates of metal armor, and a synthetic material that clung to the muscles of her sides and stomach. The material was thin, black, and rubbery to the touch as she was now pulling on a pair of lightly-armored gloves made from the same thread.

A soft sigh escaped through her pale lips as her gaze traveled over her own reflection, and what looked to be a shadow of sorrow ghosted over her features. At least, that's what Drew saw when she leaned against the door frame, looking in to the Captain's quarters. Her aqua-hazel orbs remained steady upon her soldier counterpart, Drew didn't normally see her friend so armored up, or so depressed. The Electric Duo had gotten the word from Sia a little less than an hour ago, about a small group of rebels heading in their direction, and were just so ordered to suit up to protect the Estate.

Gypsy sighed again as her eyes focused in on the tan islander standing in the doorway in the corner of her mirror. Mild annoyance boiled within her chest, and she wanted to do, or say, something cutting in hopes that she would be left alone, but the pit in her stomach was greater, Drew was wearing her old armor. Her throat tightened when she noticed this, of course, it was natural. The islander didn't have any armor of her own, the woman's pain endurance prevented her from ever having to own any, but that failed to stop her eyes from glazing over.

The dark-skinned woman straightened up, frowning slightly when she was spotted. Drew turned to make her leave, but was stopped when her eyes met Gypsy's reflection, "Lyric?" she breathed quietly, not having realized her accented voice left her until it reached her ears. For a genius, she was really slow, and Drew was kicking herself now for not knowing what her friend would think if she showed up dressed, not only as a soldier, but in a set of armor that hadn't been worn by a member of the French Army in over 500 years.

Gypsy tried to swallow her sudden lump of emotion, but wound up choking on it instead. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and bit down in hopes distracting her long enough to regain her composure. It failed, and her gloved hand came up to cover her mouth as she forced herself to look away from the islander's reflection. Her gaze landed on the only other figure in the mirror large enough to grasp her attention, herself.

A muffled sob reached over to where Drew was standing, and, without missing a beat, she was crossing the room to wrap her arms around the younger woman's waist. The idea of leaving had now left her mind, she would have to change her new outfit later, "Lyric," she tried again, "Please say something?" her voice came out in the form of a mixed up demand-turned-question while she tried to get her tag-team partner to turn and face her.

The soldier jolted lightly, she was mildly surprised to feel Drew's armored and leather-clad arms encircle her, but let herself be turned so that she could hug her properly. The sound of metal plates clanking made her heart sink, and she tried to cover it by forcing a short laugh, "God, Durran, where in the hell did you find that thing?" she was referring to her old armor.

It was clear to both of them, that Gypsy's attempt at a joke was, for lack of better words, pitiful, "I could always strip," but Drew replied to it anyway as she tried to put on a smile. It took a moment for her words to register, and it would have taken longer, if she hadn't looked up in time to see a faint tint of pink dust over the soldier's cheeks. Not many people realized, but Drew, though well over 100 years older, was actually an inch shorter than the blonde. If anyone had walked by in time to see them, they would have surely noticed the difference. Drew stiffened slightly, and felt her face heat up from the idea, though her complexion seemed to prevent her blush from showing through.

As if on cue, one of Gypsy's lieutenant's showed up in the doorway, "Sir," he was breathless, apparently he had been running, "Mistress Sia and Lady Tsukasa are awaiting for- …Oh," he straightened up to attention when he spotted Drew.

The Electric Duo parted quickly, both avoiding the other's gaze, "We'll be there in a minute," Drew was quick to break the silence, "Let them know I'll need to change my armor-"

"No time," Gypsy cut in, already starting to walk to the corner of the room for her weapons. She was back to her usual serious demeanor as she strapped on her knight's blade, "You're dismissed, Logan," she barked.

It was clear to Drew that her friend was evidently ruffled about being walked-in on, and she tried not to laugh as she watched the lieutenant make his leave before Gypsy had even said his name. An amused smile hugged her lips, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're embarrassed, Dear Armony," she, on the other hand, was quite pleased the soldier was letting her keep her new, technically old, armor.

"Don't call me that," Gypsy deadpanned, if it had been anyone else, she would have likely cut their tongue out. She had regained the composure she was seeking earlier, but the more the islander tugged on her heart-strings, the more she managed to push her buttons.

Drew had managed other things, like sneaking up behind the soldier to firmly lock her arms around her middle, "You're a mess, Armony," her accent rolled from her tongue like rain water, and the tone was teasing.

Gypsy scoffed, shifting in discomfort when a particularly sharp edge of a metal buckle dug into her hip, "You're pushing your luck," she squirmed, trying now to get out of the woman's grasp, "Stop calling me that," a growl undertoned her monotonous voice.

The islander hugged a bit tighter, "But, Armony," she drawled, "You're name is pretty," she spoke next to the blonde's ear.

Gypsy could feel her smiling, and was about to flip the islander over her shoulder, and possibly into a wall, but soon felt Drew's arms slip from her sides. She turned around swiftly, sending a solid fist flying directly where the islander's head should have been.

Drew ducked, feeling the soldier's fist cut through the air mere inches above her head. She laughed, her arms coming up to hold Gypsy's fists in place as she leaned in, and placed a quick kiss upon the younger woman's lips.

Gypsy was surprised, almost frozen to the spot from the sudden contact. This was short-lived, however, as her knee came up, again in hopes of landing a blow. Gypsy missed, of course, and found her eyes landing on the leather-clad back of the retreating islander.

Something boiled within the pit of the islander's stomach, squirming and clenching all the way up, until it came out in the form of laughter, "You'll miss the meeting, Lyric."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and get comfortable. Gypsy stood there with a dumb look on her face, and she almost asked 'what meeting?' as she watched the laughing form of Drew run out of the Captain's quarters. A smile danced over  her lips, flashing her dull fangs as she soon left the room to chase after her partner, and just like that, the emotional insecurity, the guilt, and the sadness was all over.