This post has the following content warnings:
View Flat HTML
View Metadata
Search Post
She doesn't go on the mission-proper, doesn't leave the safehouse. It should have been safe, even if she had, with her maintained habit of resisting any changes someone else tried to apply to her.
That someone might have the ability to copy her, power and all, she wouldn't have guessed from the initial reports on the disturbance. That he might have followers with power of their own was always a possibility, when one of those with followers came onto her radar.
She had not been expecting to be forked. She had doubly not been expecting to be sent--wherever this was. Of course, nothing in that particular clusterfuck was expected.
She supposes her primary instance would think she was dead. Fair enough, if she never manages to get back, which wouldn't surprise her, given that she had never seen people with hair like that on Earth.
She looks down from her musings of just how badly everything had gone to hell to the Forsworn who had been sent with her. Convenient, that, even if nothing else was. She supposes it would be more convenient if it were one with powers, but oh well, at least her forktwin didn't lose any critical resources. She'd rather have someone she could trust in their own right, but she couldn't deny that a Forsworn was useful. She remembers which one this one was, and what he did that she had no choice but to claim him like that, and does not feel remorse that he's trapped here with her.
She wakes him.
He rises to his feet smoothly, waiting for orders.
She makes him know what's going on. She makes him know where they are.
He explains everything.
...Well.
She won't be bored, here, at least.
Five minutes later, a man and a woman walk out of a delivery alley, both with purple hair and in clothes approximating the local purple fashion.
#/media/File:Särna-Porphyr_P1000115.JPG){kind=link}