Life's A Dreg

by -Singleton-


I Am The Captain Of My Soul

"Oh! Shhh, shhh, its waking up. Look."

Skell's hearing was the first thing to return to him, the soft melody of a feminine voice rousing him from his forced slumber. He understood what they were saying, but it went in one ear, and out the other as he immediately forgot that someone had even spoken, his damaged, distorted thought process attempting to straighten itself out as he awoke. He could feel his senses coming back to him, his mind reestablishing itself. He wished it hadn't. The deep, aching pain coursing throughout his entire body was the first, and most intense sensation he felt as he blinked groggily, noticing that his vision was still tinted blue. He swore the kind of unrestrained soreness he was experiencing was a curse of some kind, it had to be, a terribly sharp pain shooting through his enfeebled arm as he attempted to push himself off the ground from where he was laying.

He had his eyes open the entire time, but he had been staring off into space for the first few seconds of consciousness,. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he appeared to be situated near the end of a large, relatively speaking, tunnel chamber, devoid of any kind of markings or objects. The pain wracking his body had demanded his full attention, until now, finally realizing what was directly in front of him, his eyes widening, the light they gave off flaring up in a mixture of surprise, fear, and shock, as he froze while in the process of attempting to sit up, his weak arms propping him up slightly, resting on his elbows.

Skell was surrounded, five sets of glowing yellow eyes all trained directly on him, each pair belonging to one of the beasts in front of him, towering over him from his spot on the tunnel floor. He didn't stare at any single one, his eyes instead bugging out as they darted frantically between all of the canine creatures, trying to take the situation in without panicking. He was fighting hard to keep his emotions down, to keep himself collected, though he flinched more than he should have, when one of them, the one to the far left of him, shifted slightly, inching closer to him.

In response, Skell attempted to just scoot backwards a few inches, but instead found himself scrambling away from the mob of mutts, only stopping once he found his back pressed to a wall. Perhaps he wasn't as calm as he thought he was.

"Geez Baxter, what'd you do to it? It's as frightened as a cornered animal," The central creature said, looking at the canine beast to Skell's far left, speaking in a masculine, commanding, yet somehow gentle voice that radiated an aura of kindness as well. Skell , reluctant as he was to admit it, agreed with what the creature had said, he was frightened.

Wait ... what?

It was around this time that Skell's logical mind ceased to function, as he registered the fact that he understood each and every word the creature was saying, his mouth hanging agape beneath his ether mask. To say he was surprised they could speak english would be an understatement. He had always known that it was one of the more popular and pervasive languages in the galaxy, and he had assumed these beasts were at least intelligent enough to have a language of their own, he just hadn't expected it to be the same one as his adopted tongue.

Even so, upon hearing the recognizable language, Skell's muscles relaxed slightly, relieved that at the very least, he would be able to communicate with them. After all, there was no way he was going to be able to fight his way out of his predicament, even if he didn't feel like he had just been put through a meat grinder without being physically torn apart, so that left him with only two options: run like hell, or hope he was charismatic enough to charm them into not killing him. He had a very good feeling that no matter which option he went with, he was going to die exhausted and out of breath.

But something occurred to him, as he lay there, his hazy and scattered mind wrenching a recent memory to the forefront of his train of thought, suddenly remembering, or perhaps truly appreciating how he had gotten here. The tunnel, the beast, his stupid holster refusing to let go of his shock pistol, and the inexplicable mutt that had somehow crept up behind him, allowing the other one to knock him out cold. It sparked a chain reaction of thoughts in his mind, most of them nonsensical and useless, some of them driven by anger, others by shame, but one stood out among the crowd, the singular idea resonating within him, both reassuring him, and frightening him.

He had been spared. For whatever reason, they hadn't killed him, and even though Skell didn't know exactly what that reason was, it gave him a sense of confidence, as he relaxed his muscles, the thought that he might actually live through this becoming a possibility. But he was still scared, frightened enough at the prospect of knowing why they hadn't just gutted him, that he could feel himself shaking slightly. Skell's blood frosted over in his veins as he mentally berated himself for losing control of his emotions, the rising fear inside of him gripping him tightly as another one of the creatures spoke.

"I didn't do nothin' to it, it was Buster that whacked it upside the head," another one of them spoke, his voice much deeper and more rumbling than the mutt that had spoken before him, his gravelly voice assaulting Skell's ears like sandpaper. This one was Baxter, Skell figured. Baxter glared at the dog next to him, most likely Buster, Skell thought. He mentally patted himself on the back for still having the capacity to infer something so painfully obvious. After having been smashed on the back of the head, and slamming face first into a stone wall, Skell was fairly sure he had lost some brain cells somewhere in there.

The dog next to Baxter returned the glare, holding up one clawed hand, or paw, as it were, opening his mouth to say something, before pausing, and sighing, turning away from Baxter sheepishly.

"Yeah, he's telling the truth," the mutt who Skell presumed was Buster said, his voice very similar to Baxter's, save for the hint of shame in his tone. Skell's eyes darted back and forth between the two, noticing that they shared the same silvery grey fur as well, along with the fact that they were each roughly the same size, which is to say noticeably larger than the other three creatures Skell could see out of the corner of his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat quickening as he turned his head ever so slightly, flicking his eyes in their direction just to confirm his suspicions, immediately turning back to looking at Baxter upon seeing that they were indeed still observing him intently.

"For the millionth time, you can't go around attacking every random soul that happens to get lost down here. C'mon Buster, we've talked about this," the central dog beast replied, motioning with his paws at Buster to emphasize his point.

"It's not his fault Winston, he's just wound up from last week's raid. You know he's only trying to keep us safe," a soft, feminine voice cut in. That word, raid. It stung Skell, but at the same time he could feel something inside of him, beginning to assert itself. He pushed the feeling aside for the moment, Skell's eyes darting over to her briefly, before following her gaze to the dog she was speaking to, as Skell identified, or at least took a guess that the one she was looking at, was Winston. Yet there was something strange about her voice, a kind of unplaceable power and authority behind it that both intrigued and frightened Skell. His eyes wandered back over to her, hesitantly at first , but managing to keep his eyes locked onto her as she continued, her gaze shifting to Buster - or was it Baxter? They both looked so similar.

"It's all right Buster, you didn't do nothin' wrong, but ya've still gotta apologize to ..." she trailed off, turning her head to Skell. He could feel the ice in his veins freezing him solid as he met eyes with her, staring deeply into her emerald irises. "... to uh, our friend here," she managed to find the words to finish her sentence, gesturing to Skell with a paw.

Friend? Skell wasn't sure how to feel about that word, part of him sighing in relief, confident that they weren't going to kill him after having used such a term. But another part of him, a much darker, insidious piece of him was telling him something else entirely. Skell had done a lot of bad things in his time, and even though he had always known they were wrong, he had still followed through with them, for one reason or another. Perhaps he was more like Kalnir more than he was willing to admit. He couldn't lie to himself about it though, he knew exactly what the other part of himself was.

It was his brutal, sadistic, by any means necessary side. His experienced, piratical instincts whispering into his ear.

Kill them. They won't expect it. Look down at your belt.

Skell was fighting hard to try and tune out his instincts, beginning to sweat visibly as he refused to give into whatever twisted plan he was cooking up, deep inside his mind. But he couldn't just ignore what his instincts were telling him. They were a part of him, just like any other, and within the moment, he found himself glancing down at his belt, swallowing hard at what he saw.

They hadn't taken any of his gear, not even his weapons. There, still magnetically hooked around his waist, were the three shock grenades he had scavenged.

See? You know what to do.

"Fuck ..." Skell muttered under his breath, so softly that he was sure no one else could hear him, his instincts raging against his supposed moral boundaries, his face scrunching up as he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold out against,well, himself. He wasn't ready to believe that these creatures trusted him in any way, figuring that they hadn't taken any of his gear because they didn't understand what any of the stuff he was carrying was, but even that path of reasoning had its flaws. If these five were truly out to harm or kill him, they would have at the very least, picked through his supplies, taken his weapons, even if they didn't know what they were taking. Hell, he'd have likely been dead by now had they done that, if they had taken his active ether canister or mask. Not only that, but he knew that the holes he was poking in his own logic were true. There had been many times in his life where had scavenged something he had absolutely no inkling as to what it did, simply because it looked like it might be useful or valuable.

He ripped himself away from looking at the tempting explosives, terrible, doubtful thoughts creeping into his mind. What if they had just said he was their friend to get him to relax, so that once they were ready to kill him, he wouldn't expect it? It wouldn't have been the first time he'd have witnessed something like it, luring an enemy into a false sense of security, before stabbing them in the back when they least expect it.

One of the dogs, Buster Skell identified him as, stepped forward, spurred on by the female of the group motioning him to do so. The sudden shuffling noise of Buster's clawed feet against the stone floor roused Skell from his internal battle, but he could still feel it raging inside himself as the dog began to speak.

"I'm ... sorgmmn," Buster said, his words trailing off into nonsense, his face turned away from Skell.

"I don't think it can hear you Buster, better speak up," the female beast said, walking up behind Buster, and gripping the much larger dog by the back of the neck, forcing him to look directly at Skell. He could see her claws digging into the flesh beneath his fur slightly.

"Alright, fine! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Buster yelped, his companion's claws letting up as he did so.

"There we go," she said, pleased with herself, before turning to look directly at Skell again. They locked eyes once more, and again, Skell could feel the tension in the air as she sauntered towards him. Those emerald eyes of hers pierced Skell , cutting into him and penetrating his mental defenses deeply, as he could feel his breathing picking up.

But that wasn't what worried him, no, he had long ago admitted to his fear of the situation, and by extension, the creature slowly approaching him. What concerned him, was what he was doing. He swallowed hard, his left arm descending ever so slowly to his belt, his fingers wrapping around the grip of the stick shaped grenade, feeling the cool metal on his skin, as his thumb drifted over to the circular activation button, hovering over it.

You better be to ready to bolt once that thing is armed, else you're getting a nice electrocution scar. Remember, don't take any chances, shoot em' once they're down, just to be sure. No survivors.

The dog stopped a few inches short of him, her lean form towering over him, forcing him to crane his neck up to maintain eye contact with her. She was an intimidating sight, but Skell dared not look away from her, for fear of what might happen. He managed to calm himself down slightly, enough so that he could take in her appearance. Her cream colored coat wasn't quite as unkempt as the others, but it was messy and ruffled in more than a few places. She was wearing a dented and scarred, multi-layered metal breastplate that covered her entire midsection, the armor plating going down as far as her waist, where a hefty, pocketed leather belt was fastened. Her legs and arms were similarly encased in overlapping plates of red metal, the multiple, flexible plates clanking against one another as she knelt down, bringing her face to face with Skell, her muzzle only inches from him now.

His thumb was on the activation button.

One good punch , right side, then shove the grenade into that little gap in her armor, right below her neck, and clear out. She'll fry like a pig, and so will the rest of them.

"Hey there fella," she spoke, her warm voice washing over him, thawing his ice filled veins. "I know we didn't exactly start off on the right foot, heh, but uh, we ain't gonna hurt cha." Skell looked into her eyes, staring at her, long and hard, sensing the underlying compassion, the empathy within them. Skell had never been very good at calling liars on their bullshit, and over time he had developed a bad habit of just defaulting to not trusting anyone, but there was something in her tone, in her her relaxed , friendly posture. Something genuine.

She stretched a paw out to him, slowly, and with her claws retracted as she spoke, her padded palms not covered by her open gauntlets.

"Name's Dakota. Pleased to meet cha."

Skell tore his gaze from her mesmerizing eyes, long enough to look at her open paw, waiting for him to take hold. His right arm twitched for a moment, the muscles tensing up, preparing to enact his plan, his other thumb ready to prime the grenade.

His arm shot up, taking her much larger paw in his own hand.

Don't say ...

Skell felt a slight smile creeping across his face, as she grinned eagerly, shaking his hand heartily, while his other hand slipped away from the grenade around his belt.

... I didn't warn you.

Skell had been struggling against his instincts the entire time, fighting hard to try and silence the very thing that had seen him through time and time again. He didn't have to be friends with them, didn't even have to like them, all he had wanted to do was give them a chance, seeing as they'd done the same for him, but he couldn't do it without first taking control of himself.

It felt wrong on a primal level, as he forced his instincts into submission with a final burst of willpower. Yet at the same time, he felt the kind of euphoric relief that only came from one conquering one's inner demons. But he knew they'd be back soon enough.

Shaking the final, lingering thoughts from his mind, Skell wrangled control of his breathing, as Dakota finished shaking hands, standing up as she did so, still gripping his own, forcing him to his feet with her. He groaned at the painful stiffness that still held sway over his aching body as he stood, Dakota releasing him from her grip, and smiling at him warmly. He hadn't noticed it at first, but as he stood there, looking on at her, Skell noticed that she had a slight under bite, her lower canines a bit bigger than what he had expected, her lips contoured to the jagged outline of her teeth, but still loose like a dog's. It created a strange effect, where he could tell she was smiling, able to see her lips curved upwards, and tell that her teeth were locked together, without actually seeing her teeth.

If he was being honest though, he found it somewhat endearing, his initial trepidations melting away under her reassuring gaze, able to sense the genuine kindness about her. The very same emerald eyes that had paralyzed him in fear, now egged him onwards, giving him enough confidence to look at her directly, he as cleared his throat, and spoke.

"S-Skell. I-I'm Skell," he said, stuttering slightly as his raspy voice filled the air. He could just feel the charisma oozing from every one of his shaky, unsure words.

Dakota plodded over to him, draping an arm across his back, and pulling him in close.

"Phew, I wasn't sure what we were sayin' was gettin' through to ya, but I'm glad to hear that it did. I just wanna say again, we're mighty sorry for uh, y'know, attacking ya and all," she said, her voice soothing him, bolstering his confidence as her other arm wrapped around him, lifting him off the ground, in her tight grip. Skell was fairly sure he had just signed his own death warrant as he felt the ether being forced from his lungs, his feet lifting off the ground caught her incredible grip as she brought him closer to her own face, to her waiting jaws, ready to tear into his neck. He squirmed uncomfortably, fighting to wrestle himself free, all while knowing that there was zero chance he was going to be able to break free from her powerful arms. This was it, crushed to death by a deceptively friendly dog beast named Dakota.

Honestly not the worst way to go out from what he'd seen, but Skell still hated the fact that he had survived the freakin' Vex, only to be finished off by some anthropomorphic mutt that he couldn't even place, despite his knowledge of numerous species. He closed his eyes, letting his limbs go limp as her hot breath washed over his face. He had been far too optimistic to think that he could make it all 70 cycles. He couldn't even last one ... Kalnir had been right, Skell was out of his goddamned mind. He resigned himself to his fate, ready to savor his final experience. He had always wondered what death felt like anyways.

A scant moment later, the skin on his face was tingling pleasantly as he was engulfed in a raw wave of warmth that enveloped him in a blanket of good will. He forced his eyes open, incredulous at what was taking place before him. She was brushing her fuzzy face up against his, the little tuft of hair right above her eyes tickling the little bit of skin that showed through his helmet.

Was she ... hugging him? Hugging an eliksni? Apparently, the grim reaper would have to take a rain check, because there was no denying it, as Dakota nuzzled into him, that he was indeed being hugged. He hardly knew the word, or what it meant, but he had managed to wrench a distant memory free from the darkness clouding his mind, remembering having read about the show of affection in a human text he had come across in his travels.

She was warm, in every sense of the word, her soft fur radiating heat, her buttery voice relaxing Skell. He was at a loss for what to do, suspended in the air by the noticeably larger Dakota, having only just met her moments ago. He was confused, unable to put a label on the tingling sensation he was experiencing, only knowing that it felt strangely enjoyable, to be held by someone else. But it was a startling experience nonetheless, Skell unsure of what to make of the confusing whirlwind of swirling emotions within himself, unable to recall feeling anything like it before.

Come to think of it, he couldn't remember a time when anyone had hugged him, not even as a child, his winding, foggy memory failing to present him with any examples of reciprocal kindness. He had never imagined that anyone would spare, much less hug an eliksni. Among his own race, it was simply unheard of, punishable by death even. Among others ... well his species, they were hated, feared and reviled across the galaxy as butchers and merciless raiders. Not exactly the type to warrant a hug from anyone.

Yet there he was, overwhelmed by the strange mix of emotions beginning to bubble to the surface, an unfamiliar wetness forming in his eyes as the dam holding back his flood of emotions began to break.

He had spent his entire life, learning that the only useful emotion was rage, and even then, it wasn't useful if you couldn't channel it into battle fury, for it would destroy you if you let it control you. He had always disagreed with such a philosophy, but it had always been hard for him to truly believe himself, having known nothing but shame, humiliation, and anger throughout his entire life, which made the experience all the stranger.

He felt something, deep inside him, a growing, intangible warmth that burned fiercely. His heart hurt, the painful sensation concentrated in his chest stabbing him sharply, as he continued to try and suppress his emotions, to attempt to hold onto the doctrines and teachings that had kept him alive all this time. But there was something more to this emotion he was experiencing, unable to give it a name, having never felt its overwhelming, pleasant sensation within his heart. It was so much stronger than anything he had ever felt before, and it was impossible for him to remain steadfast against it, the powerful emotion smashing his resolve to pieces, crushing the dam that was holding back all of his feelings, as it slipped into his heart.

What came in the split second afterwards, could only be described as unbridled terror. What was happening to him?!? His chest tightened, his breathing intensified, and his entire body tingled, the aching pain subsiding for a few moments as the intensely pleasurable torrent of emotions swept through him, Skell frightened by the sensation that came with it, having never felt this way in his whole life, until now.

Here he was, on the verge of - tears, yes that's what the moisture in his eyes was called. It had been so long since the word had crossed his mind, so long since he had felt the sensation. They had beaten him to a pulp the last time they had caught him crying, told him that it was a useless function that served only to weaken one's resolve.

They had threatened to kill him on his next offense. He hadn't cried since.

But now he knew. Knew that they were wrong, as he felt a drop of moisture roll down his cheek, the cathartic sensation that he was experiencing gripping him tightly, and that combined with Dakota's soft fur on his skin, the comforting aura that surrounded her, finally allowing him to let go for a moment, to allow himself to experience the tide of unknown emotions raging inside of him, as another tear rolled down his cheek, and into the lower part of the inside of his helmet.

He had always tried to suppress his emotions, like he had been taught, and for a long time, he had agreed with the practice, the only emotions ever being experienced having been negative ones, and so it made sense to suppress them, to hide his pain. Skell was at a loss for what to call the current blend of emotions, raging inside of him, but he didn't care, even though he was confused, frightened even by the alien sensation coursing through his body.

All he knew, was that it felt good, so much so that this single moment, this one experience, was undoubtedly the best he had ever felt in his entire life, and even though he hardly knew Dakota, it didn't matter. He didn't care who she was, or whether he'd be dead in a few moments for ignoring his instincts and teachings. All he needed from her, was for her to continue holding him, to let the feelings inside of him continue to confuse, and comfort him.

He was still scared out of his mind though, so very frightened by the emotions he was experiencing, the strange, indescribable feeling of warmth that accompanied them lulling him into submission, telling him to stay right where he was, to continue feeling what he felt.

At this point, Skell was too deeply absorbed by the confusing cavalcade of his cascading emotions to really worry about getting offed, and even if he did care about dying now, he would gladly trade away the 70 cycles he probably wouldn't even live through to continue experiencing Dakota's overwhelming warmth. If he was going to die, he was going to die, no two ways about it, and now would be the perfect time for Dakota to squeeze the life out of him if she wanted to.

But Skell would only ever have one first hug, and he'd be damned if he'd let it go to waste, worrying about such petty nuisances as death, especially if this was to be his last hug as well. If he died, at least he'd die knowing that for a moment, however brief, he felt at peace with himself. To die having experienced a wider range of feelings, to know that there was a world of positive emotions out there, waiting for him. Casting aside his doubts, and just saying, to hell with it, Skell returned the hug as best he could, his arms groaning in protest, unable to fully wrap around her broad midsection, but the thought was there, as another droplet of moisture glided across his face.

"Dakota you gotta stop hugging the intruders, its-" one of the other mutts started, Skell recognizing it as Winston's voice.

"Unprofessional? Dangerous? Oh please, spare me the lecture Winston. You saw for yourself the last time someone tried something, that I can handle whatever I choose to hug. I practically bit that arrogant minotaur's head off in one bite," she said, slightly annoyed at Winston.

Skell suddenly felt less comfortable around Dakota, his damp eyes sweeping across her teeth as she spoke, his train of thought absentmindedly derailing, searching for the meaning and imagery associated with that word, minotaur, before a terrible realization crossed his mind. Minotaurs were Vex. Heavily armored, twelve foot tall constructs. He had only seen one, and only once before. Four vandals went down trying to take it out, and even then, they had only damaged it. Skell shuddered, realizing that he might not have escaped the Vex after all, leaving him to wonder how in the world she had taken a bite out it's metal head, with her teeth.

He swallowed hard as she put him down, both disappointed as her warmth left him, and relieved that he wasn't as close to her powerful, metal crushing jaws, all while his mind raced at the prospect of having to put up against the Vex, alone this time. Skell was starting to wonder if he would ever have any strictly enjoyable experiences, the bittersweet, or downright sour mix of emotions within him never seeming to subside to give way to purely good ones. Still, he took the experience for what it was worth, smiling slightly as he swept his arms behind him, checking to make sure she hadn't crushed his ether canister, relieved upon finding that she hadn't. His hands idly wandered, checking the rest of his gear, and finding that it was all still in its place, save for the shock pistol he had dropped. He didn't much mind honestly, resolving to simply enjoy the moment, and inquire about it later.

At the very least, for the first time in a very long while, Skell continued to smile slightly underneath his helmet, the positive feelings inside of him outweighing the negative, the sensation of Dakota's velvety fur on his skin lingering long after they had finished hugging. He knew, deep down, that it had merely been her way of greeting him, of apologizing for Buster's actions. He knew that she didn't actually care about him, but he didn't pay attention to that fact. He had experienced something wonderful, something terrifying and awesome , and he refused to let that go, feeling a connection, however misguided or nonexistent, between them. He would never be able to thank her enough.

"Alright, fine, I suppose that's fair enough," Winston replied, conceding to her, before muttering something just loud enough for Skell to hear , " still took me three days to wash his blood out of my fur though ..."

Wait, blood? Skell knew the Vex had some sort of biomechanical fluid contained within their chests, but blood? He had never heard anyone use the term to describe the milky white substance. It couldn't be the Vex, at least the way he saw it, but it wasn't entirely out of the ballpark that it might be them after all. For the time being, Skell decided that they weren't referencing the Vex, pushing the worrying thought from his mind, and attempting to cling to the last fleeting bits of Dakota's warmth lingering about him.

Skell breathed a sigh of relief, resolving to ask them exactly what they meant by 'minotaur' later, silently hoping that they weren't talking about the Vex. He quickly redirected his attention to Dakota, catching her pleased grin out of the corner of his eye as she turned back to face him, he himself swiveling his head to meet her gaze.

"Plus, I think our new friend Skell here really appreciated it," she said, her voice comforting him as she patted him on the back a bit harder than he had expected, her forceful smack sending him stumbling forwards awkwardly as he managed to catch himself and regain his balance, the soreness in his muscles screeching at him for having the audacity to move.

"Ooh, sorry, heh ..." Dakota said in a somewhat embarrassed voice, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, "... you're just a bit smaller than most of the folks 'round here is all."

It wasn't like Skell hadn't noticed. Buster and Baxter were easily triple his size, confirming this to be true as he glanced over in their direction. He was actually just as tall as them though, since Buster and Baxter walked hunched over, whereas Dakota and Winston seemed to have a straighter posture, and even though they weren't quite as large as Buster or Baxter, the way they carried themselves went a long way to making Skell feel shorter than he actually was.

Skell didn't even care if the two burly dogs he was looking at could see the glistening streaks of wetness on his leathery skin; he had cried, and it had felt damn good.

It was at this point, having fully taken in the fact that he legitimately didn't care anymore, that Skell realized he had somewhat lost it, time grinding to a halt around him as he dwelled on the matter. Sprinting across an open field full of Vex was one thing; that was just blatant , spur of the moment, survival driven lunacy.

But this, this was something else entirely, and he was unsure of exactly what he was feeling, the kind of freedom he felt, being able to experience the confusing, yet decidedly pleasurable sensations he had felt freely without fear of reprisal, not caring about others seeing him indulge in a behavior he had been taught was shameful, unbecoming, and useless, a detriment to him even.

It felt like all his life, he had been pushed to the ground, forced to crawl through the mud, so of course he had always felt like life was dreary and terrible, felt like his emotions were only detrimental to his mental wellbeing, because the truth was, with the kinds of emotions you get from having your face shoved into the mud, they were harmful and depressing feelings to harbor. It was only after having the courage, or perhaps just being stupid enough to stand up to his superiors, combined with a twist of fate, that he had managed to roll himself over, to gaze up at the sky, and marvel at its wonder, and only now, by looking back on what his life had been only a short time ago, did he realize that even though he was inching closer to death every second, he felt more alive than he ever had before.

He was scared of his emotions, unsure of what kinds of sensations and experiences they yet held for him, but it felt so very good to be frightened, to have that unknown factor pushing him to try and discover what else might be waiting for him, within himself.

He was most assuredly crazy by eliksni standards, and he loved it how it felt.

The proper flow of time resumed as Skell snapped back to reality, noticing Buster's head darting away as Skell centered on him, the massive dog clearly still reluctant to face Skell after what he had done to him. Skell's eyes wandered over to Winston briefly, his eyes pleading with him, asking him what to do. They exchanged a look, Skell now finally calm enough to take in his appearance, letting his eyes sweep over Winston after seeing him shrug, offering Skell no help in regards to Buster.

Winston wore a small brown, leather jacket, left unzipped just like Buster and Baxter, over his short, tan coat, yet no gemstones were stuffed into his pockets, the little flaps of leather empty at the moment. The little tuft of hair each of the dogs seemed to have right above their eyes was smoothed back in Winston's case, lending more attention to his eyes, accentuating his icy blue irises. Skell took note of the bejeweled collar around his neck, taking the time to try and make out exactly what color the gem embedded into it was, which was rather difficult at times through his blue tinted vision. It was a strange rock, rippling outwards from the center, starting with white in the middle, and gradually transitioning to a caramel tint near the edge of the rounded square shaped stone. It had clearly been carved specifically for his collar.

"Agate. My stone, it's agate," Winston said, rousing Skell from his contemplative stare, tapping one of his fingers against the gemstone. He must have noticed him attempting to determine what it was. "As for the rest of us, well, they can tell you themselves, if you're interested that is."

Skell nodded in reply, eager to learn something new about his new ... friends. He knew it was wrong, calling them that when he hadn't done anything to yet garner their affection, but he was determined to rectify that.

"Alright then. We'll tell you something about ourselves, you'll tell us something about yourself. For starters, I want to know what exactly you are. Never seen anything like you before," Winston said, motioning to Buster and Baxter, and then to Dakota and ... the other dog, before pointing at Skell. The dog still hadn't spoke a word, and even the others hadn't even mentioned him until now. He just stood there, perpetually staring at him, Skell always able to see him out of the corner of his eye. It was, unnerving to say the least.

He thought about Winston's offer for a brief moment. He didn't really need to know what their gemstones were, and there were no repercussions for not knowing, but if he told them that he was an eliksni, well things might get ugly if they recognized the word.

Still, seeing as eliksni had a reputation that got around, and seeing as they genuinely didn't seem to know what he was, Skell figured he was safe to tell them. From what he gathered, they didn't seem to know anything about him or the eliksni.

Skell had been waiting for a day like this, the day he could finally separate himself from the reputation all eliksni had thrust onto them just by merit of them being what they were. He had always wanted to prove, to himself and to the world, that he wasn't a bad person, that just because he was born an eliksni, didn't mean there wasn't any good in his heart.

Here was his opportunity, and after the enlightening kindness Dakota had shown him, he wasn't going to ruin the trust beginning to form between them, however slight, by withholding information from them. Skell figured that even though he really didn't need to know this bit of info, it would serve well as a chance to begin to lessen the tension between him and the others, and to start building a mutual trust. He owed it to himself, and more importantly, to Dakota, to at least try and make nice.

Skell nodded weakly, Winston glancing over to Buster and Baxter, and giving them the go ahead to share their stones with a nod of his own.

"Mine's smoky quartz," Baxter said shuffling a bit closer to Skell and raising a paw up to point at the amber colored gemstone in his collar. Skell looked closer to get a better look, and found that it really did look like there was smoke, suspended within the sizeable translucent stone. Skell shifted his gaze to Buster, who pawed at the ground meekly, his head turned from Skell. He really was beating himself up over what he had done, and couldn't help but feel like Dakota had only worsened the problem by forcing him to apologize, even though she had defended him from Winston. She was a strange one for sure. Skell equated Buster's sheepishness it to a combination of shame, and blind ignorance, two things he knew very well personally.

There was no way Buster could've known he could speak English when he had attacked him, no way he could've known that just talking to him might have defused the situation, although in hindsight, Skell was ready to put a shock round in his skull, and then things would have gone south, fast. Perhaps everything had turned out for the best, in the end.

Skell wasn't entirely sure of it at first, but after that hug from Dakota, he was convinced that the lingering ache in the back of his head was worth it. With all of the kindness Dakota had shown him, he felt obligated to do the same for Buster. Skell glanced over at Dakota to his right, looking at up her, searching her facial features as if it would somehow help him gather the nerve to speak up. He knew it was silly, stupid even, but Skell felt a lot safer, more comfortable around Dakota than he did around anyone else, despite her somewhat worrying remarks. She had kept referring to him as, as her friend, and even though Skell wasn't ready to believe her just yet, not feeling like he had earned her friendship, he was ready to start working towards it.

He was proven right, as Dakota returned Skell's unsure look with a reassuring smile, egging him onwards to do whatever it is he was going to do. She would be there for him if he needed her; there was no reason to be afraid. Skell turned away from Dakota, holding on to the friendly look in her eyes,

He cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that had formed there, and started speaking without knowing what exactly he was going to say at first.

"I uh ... It's alright Buster, really. I ... I forgive you," Skell managed to stutter out, tripping over his own words, but putting as much passion and feeling as he could into them, to really make it clear that he harbored no ill will towards him, and in fact, deep down, was thanking him for inadvertently leading him down a wonderful path.

Buster's ears, which had been flattened against his head the entire time, instantly perked up upon hearing Skell's words of forgiveness. He slowly looked up from the floor, looking right at Skell, the two exchanging an expression of understanding.

"No hard feelings?", Buster asked, his trepidation laden tone clashing oddly against his gruff voice.

"None," Skell replied in the most reassuring voice he could muster, attempting to soften his expression towards the lumbering behemoth of a dog. Buster's own facial expression relaxed as well, his inviting brown eyes lighting up, grinning at Skell as he brought a massive paw up to his collar, directing Skell's attention to the shiny, dark black gemstone embedded there.

"My stone, is onyx," Buster said proudly, tapping one of his fingers against the smooth surface of the precious stone. Skell, not knowing how else to respond, simply nodded in acknowledgement of him, beginning to wonder why they all had a different kind of gemstone. It obviously held some sort of significance that was unclear to Skell, what with the way Buster and Baxter had both presented their stones like they were trophies of some sort. Winston hadn't though, so what did it all mean, what purpose did such a trinket serve? He kept his mouth shut though, not wanting to touch on it in case he was right, and it was some kind of possession they held sacred, instead looking over to Dakota, craning his head back a little bit to look up at her from where she was standing a few paces off to his right, watching her expectantly.

She smiled warmly in his direction, kneeling down so that they were face to face, allowing Skell a better view of the bright red gemstone embedded in the center of her collar. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out as her pupils dilated without warning, holding a paw up, motioning for Skell to remain silent as a deep rumbling from somewhere overhead resounded through the air, shaking the tunnel ceiling. Dakota glanced over at Winston, who met her head on, eyes wide, the both of them communicating with each other without uttering a word.

Skell was unsettled by the sudden change in spirits, his instincts beginning to take hold of him once more, shifting uncomfortably in his armor as the somewhat casual and relaxed demeanor of Dakota melted away, revealing an attitude of unnerving seriousness. The rumbling overhead worsened, bits and pieces of loose stone from the tunnel ceiling being knocked free, smashing against the floor. Skell recognized the sound coming from above all too well, and even though he didn't know what was causing it, he knew that something, or rather, a lot of something was marching in the tunnels above, each punishing, methodic footsteps shaking the room around him.

"Dakota, please tell me you resealed the entrance when you came back this morning," Winston pleaded grimly, his voice cutting through the worsening sound rocking the tunnel cavern.

"Course I did, now drop it, ain't no time to play the blame game. They're minotaurs Winston, they can get through mountains if it tickles their fancy. A giant boulder ain't gonna change that," Dakota said, her voice taking on an air of sudden authority.

"But last time-" Winston attempted to retort, but was cut short.

"Last time was different, and you know that. It was a tragedy that we couldn't have prevented. But guess what? The next tragedy is stompin' through our tunnels at this very moment. We know they're comin', we have that goin' for us this time, and I'm telling you to dig deep into that thick skull o' yours to realize that the only way we're gonna get through this, is if we move, now " she said, her torrent of impassioned words, silencing Winston.

"Alright then, now hush up and skidattle on back to the den fore' I smack you upside the head and drag you there myself," Dakota said, interrupting Winston, refusing to argue about it. Winston glared at her, his icy blue eyes clashing against her emerald ones for a moment, before Winston grumbled, and turned away. He glanced over to Buster and Baxter, signaling for them to follow him as he started towards a narrow passage on the far end of the cavern they were in. The as of yet unnamed dog followed suite, shooting Skell a strange look, before falling into line behind the others.

Skell had absolutely no clue as to what was going on, the worrisome scene unfolding before him forcing his instincts to the surface, as the other side of himself asserted itself, beginning to take control again. He could hardly move, much less think, an overwhelming sense of fear gripping him tightly as Dakota quickly turned away from him, hurrying over to the rest of her group, bringing up the back of the troupe of dogs, as Winston disappeared into the passage, Buster and Baxter slipping out of view a moment later.

The rumbling overhead was getting worse, Skell unsure of how to respond as Dakota looked back at him, her eyes filled with conflicting emotions.

"Leave him, we're not taking any chances Dakota!" came Winston's disembodied voice, echoing down the tunnel. Skell couldn't believe his eyes, as she took one last look at him, clenching her own eyes shut, and turning from him, disappearing into the passage, leaving him standing there alone in the darkness, shaking his head ever so slightly, unable to process the fact that the very same person who had opened him up to such wonderful, confusing feelings, had just left him to his fate.

It stung all the worse because of it, his inner voice whispering to him as he blinked back another tear.

Feel that awful, familiar sensation coursing through you? That loneliness, that feeling of abandonment, both things you've felt before. Isn't it so much worse now, so much more painful after having known a moment of relief from them? You keep resisting what I tell you, even though you know I'm right.

Skell was shaking now, another tear slipping from his eyes, as the smile beneath his helmet soured, his face contorting into a grimace. He was a bloody idiot to think he wasn't still alone in the world, to think that just because Dakota and her pack hadn't killed him, that they were suddenly his friends. He was pathetic.

Now get yourself under control, now isn't the time to be breaking down, old pal.

He swallowed hard, clenching his hands into fists as he did so, struggling to seal away his emotions. He didn't know what was coming, didn't know if the 'minotaurs' stomping around above were the Vex he dreaded, but he knew that he couldn't give up. He had to keep going, even though the terrible pain in his heart, and the weakness plaguing his body told him to lie down and accept his destiny; to die scared and alone, like the worthless whelp he was.

But he refused to give into the temptation, breathing deeply as he glanced around, noticing several tunnel entrances scattered around the circular cavern. He had no idea where any of them lead, but he couldn't sit there and wait for his death to find him. From the violent shaking still coming from above, there had to be at least a dozen of whatever was slinking through the cave system. Skell could barely take on two opponents at once, much less a dozen. He was dead if he didn't get moving.

He picked an entrance at random, glancing over to the one Dakota had disappeared into, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and sadness, as another hot tear rolled down his cheek. He was still fighting hard against the maelstrom of emotions within him, only clearing his mind enough to be able to act, as he started towards the entrance of his choice.

Skell berated himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. He had known that letting himself go would only cause him more pain in the end, but he had been stupid enough to ignore his voice of reason, and now he was suffering for it, the terrible pain coursing through his body having expanded into his soul, tearing him apart on the inside.

Just as he came to the narrow passage of his chosen tunnel, Skell heard something coming from behind him, off to his right.

"We attacked him and then scared him half to death, I'm not leaving him out here to get torn to pieces by a bunch of savage bulls!"

He was barely able to make out Dakota's muffled shouting, but he recognized her voice instantly. She was arguing with someone, Skell unable to make out the jumble of distant words that came from whoever she was arguing with. He could feel his spirits lifting, able to hear her frantic footsteps, the metallic clanking of her armor echoing down the tunnel she had disappeared into, getting closer by the second. She was coming back for him.

"I'm not letting him get wrapped up in the mess we created! He's coming with us Winston, and that's the end of it!"

Skell turned, her voice getting closer as she scrambled into view , bursting forth into the cavern and immediately calling out to him.

"Skell! It ain't safe out here, please, I know you don't have any reason to trust us, but ..." she pleaded with him, trailing off as they locked eyes, Skell's overjoyed expression conveying all she needed to know. He was by her side within the moment, the soreness in his legs unable to stop him from sprinting over to her, his emotions wrestling control of him once more, as the darkness in his mind whispered to him.

Fine Skell, let your petty emotions control you, but just remember ...

Dakota smiled warmly at Skell, her aura of compassion returning as she waved Skell into the dark passageway, glancing around at the rumbling cavern cautiously for a moment.

... you can't run from what you've become, from who you are.

She sniffed the air for a moment, as Skell stopped, waiting for her to join him, never again wanting to feel the terrible loneliness he had known for so long. Dakota scrunched her face up, displeased by whatever subtle scent she had picked, turning to face Skell, giving him a gentle nudge forward, and slipping into the passage with him, as they disappeared into darkness together, Skell's troubled, darkened mind mirroring the blackness around him. He let Dakota slip past him, to lead the way as Skell realized he was still shaking as he proceeded down the winding tunnel, keeping pace with Dakota.

He wasn't shaking from anger anymore, but rather, fear as he followed her, fighting the darkness within himself, attempting to suppress it as he tried to focus on the powerful relief he felt, the warmth inside of him from knowing that Dakota had come back for him.

I am in every breath you take. You continue to try and separate yourself from me, trying to force me down and silence me.

But even Dakota's constant aura of kindness and warmth, did nothing to stop his blood from running cold as he sensed his inner voice surging back to life, a single, undeniable thought slipping through his mental defenses, chilling him to the bone as the words echoed in his
mind.

But you can't and you will never be able to get rid of me, because I think you've forgotten one tiny detail Skell.

His resolve weakened, the color draining from his face as Skell allowed the the blackness that surrounded him to permeate his being, sweeping away everything else, and leaving only darkness within him as he came to terms with the terrifying thought, knowing in his blackened, guilt ridden heart that it was true.

I am you.