It had taken months to build the drone, and longer to gather all the many mismatched scraps from other devices, test them, fit them like puzzle pieces without a map. Its constituent parts scattered the floor in the evenings, Sesuna laid out among them on her stomach, brows low.
It kept her quiet. And out of trouble.
When Bessie was around she used the g'brim's power to speed the process, growing deft at the smallest loops of light, tiny complex weaves. Though at times her hand snapped back when the electrics buzzed a shock through her fingers, or something whizzed and sparked. A yelp or grumble of irritation usually followed, but occasionally her gaze snapped up in accusation. Because sometimes it wasn't her mistake at all but Ibrihim's grinning vie for her attention when the hours had trickled passed unnoticed, her stomach empty and her limbs stiff. She never noticed the shadows until they robbed her ability to see what she was doing.
Ibrihim knew by now that she could not retaliate when her brother was not around. At least least not with g'brim power. A sly smile marked his only warning, though these were old games by now. It was just as often Rohama that separated them as Bess, when their playful wrestling grew raucous enough to upset furniture. Though it was only Rohama who frowned down at them with disappointment. She was particularly hard on Ibrihim, perhaps because he was old enough to know better. Sesuna definitely didn't stick her tongue out or wink conspiratorially when her wrath rained down on him.
Rohama had her reasons, of course. Sesuna did not know it all even now, but the woman's past shrouded dark, and it had bled out any humour she may have ever possessed. Though Sesuna could barely imagine her any different. Slim months marked their difference in age, so they were both still teenagers when the breadth of Sesuna's network plucked her out as one of them five years ago. That night, tented beneath the blankets of her bed, an orb of g'brim light glowing their faces, Sesuna first showed her how to submit to the gift, and Rohama had cried a long time afterwards, her face pressed against Sesuna's shoulder.
They'd been no such displays of emotion since. She was a stern eyed creature, despite her young age, both capable and efficient and utterly loyal. But Sesuna sensed a core of revenge steeling that spine so rigid. There was little room for anything else beyond duty.
The drone required proximity to function, something Sesuna was still working on. The village was rural enough to offer choice in the surrounding landscape, and she'd spent the afternoon scoping for the best place to base herself. Trees provided cover; she'd be vulnerable while she operated the drone. Bessie had helped her sink power into the dirt, charms that would alert her if human footsteps came too close. Warning enough to defend herself if necessary.
An outdated and adapted pair of clunky land warriors wrapped her face, synced to the video feed. She'd pulled herself into the branches, legs tucked up. Bark pressed into her back, leaves brushing her shoulder; it felt like mother's steadying hand. The images below were fuzzy, smeared with the heat signatures of those within the compound. More detail wasn't necessary, of course, and she could not direct the drone too low. No one would hear its faint whirr, but it needed to stay unseen in the dark -- and far enough away from rifle fire if things went wrong. "Roughly eleventy-billion to go, big brother. You're clear."
It kept her quiet. And out of trouble.
When Bessie was around she used the g'brim's power to speed the process, growing deft at the smallest loops of light, tiny complex weaves. Though at times her hand snapped back when the electrics buzzed a shock through her fingers, or something whizzed and sparked. A yelp or grumble of irritation usually followed, but occasionally her gaze snapped up in accusation. Because sometimes it wasn't her mistake at all but Ibrihim's grinning vie for her attention when the hours had trickled passed unnoticed, her stomach empty and her limbs stiff. She never noticed the shadows until they robbed her ability to see what she was doing.
Ibrihim knew by now that she could not retaliate when her brother was not around. At least least not with g'brim power. A sly smile marked his only warning, though these were old games by now. It was just as often Rohama that separated them as Bess, when their playful wrestling grew raucous enough to upset furniture. Though it was only Rohama who frowned down at them with disappointment. She was particularly hard on Ibrihim, perhaps because he was old enough to know better. Sesuna definitely didn't stick her tongue out or wink conspiratorially when her wrath rained down on him.
Rohama had her reasons, of course. Sesuna did not know it all even now, but the woman's past shrouded dark, and it had bled out any humour she may have ever possessed. Though Sesuna could barely imagine her any different. Slim months marked their difference in age, so they were both still teenagers when the breadth of Sesuna's network plucked her out as one of them five years ago. That night, tented beneath the blankets of her bed, an orb of g'brim light glowing their faces, Sesuna first showed her how to submit to the gift, and Rohama had cried a long time afterwards, her face pressed against Sesuna's shoulder.
They'd been no such displays of emotion since. She was a stern eyed creature, despite her young age, both capable and efficient and utterly loyal. But Sesuna sensed a core of revenge steeling that spine so rigid. There was little room for anything else beyond duty.
The drone required proximity to function, something Sesuna was still working on. The village was rural enough to offer choice in the surrounding landscape, and she'd spent the afternoon scoping for the best place to base herself. Trees provided cover; she'd be vulnerable while she operated the drone. Bessie had helped her sink power into the dirt, charms that would alert her if human footsteps came too close. Warning enough to defend herself if necessary.
An outdated and adapted pair of clunky land warriors wrapped her face, synced to the video feed. She'd pulled herself into the branches, legs tucked up. Bark pressed into her back, leaves brushing her shoulder; it felt like mother's steadying hand. The images below were fuzzy, smeared with the heat signatures of those within the compound. More detail wasn't necessary, of course, and she could not direct the drone too low. No one would hear its faint whirr, but it needed to stay unseen in the dark -- and far enough away from rifle fire if things went wrong. "Roughly eleventy-billion to go, big brother. You're clear."