“Not in Yusankyo, they’re not,” Quatre muttered grimly. “...Why? If they’re planning an invasion...” He trailed off, staring into space as gears turned in his head. “I think I need to talk to King Yuy,” he finally said. Garas smiled grimly. “I think you’re probably right.” There was a slight commotion as another of the rogues was dragged in, struggling and snarling at his captors. Quatre felt Garas tense as he saw the man’s face, and looked over at the newcomer himself. He was a short, slender man with raven-black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail; his eyes were almond-shaped and a startling black color. Staring at him, Quatre felt an uneasy tingle run down his spine, and he tore his gaze away from the struggling young man back to Garas. “That’s not your commander, is it?” he demanded. Surely he was too young, only a few years older than Quatre himself! “Who, him?” Garas’ voice was deliberately casual. “No, of course not. He’s just a newcomer to the Sweepers, a lone fighter we picked up a while back.” Quatre didn’t hear the tension underlying Garas’ tone; he was too distracted by the slightly out-of-place feeling of the black-eyed man. “What’s his name?” he said absently. Garas shrugged with studied nonchalance. “Shen Lon, I believe. It doesn’t really matter --” He was cut off by the sudden arrival of Heero Yuy into the scene. The young King of Yusankyo was trailing a few guards of his own, which he completely ignored as he surveyed the prisoners, then quickly paced over to speak with Rashid. Garas breathed a quick prayer of thanks for the distraction, and quickly went over to calm down the dark-haired man before he got himself killed... and everyone screwed over. “Is this all of them?” Heero was saying to Rashid as Quatre approached. “Your Majesty?” Quatre injected anxiously, for once in his life daring to interrupt a conversation. “Heero,” the dark-haired boy corrected with a scowl. “For the last time, Quatre, none of that Majesty stuff.” “Sorry. Heero --” Quatre began again, and Heero cut him off with a sharp nod. “Better. Now, Rashid, what were you saying?” Heero turned his back on Quatre as he refocused his attention on the older man. “Well,” Rashid started, with an apologetic glance at Quatre, “most of the rebels
Re: Tenku no GUNDAM
Date: 2006-02-21 06:44 am (UTC)“Not in Yusankyo, they’re not,” Quatre muttered grimly. “...Why? If they’re planning an invasion...” He trailed off, staring into space as gears turned in his head. “I think I need to talk to King Yuy,” he finally said.
Garas smiled grimly. “I think you’re probably right.”
There was a slight commotion as another of the rogues was dragged in, struggling and snarling at his captors. Quatre felt Garas tense as he saw the man’s face, and looked over at the newcomer himself. He was a short, slender man with raven-black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail; his eyes were almond-shaped and a startling black color. Staring at him, Quatre felt an uneasy tingle run down his spine, and he tore his gaze away from the struggling young man back to Garas. “That’s not your commander, is it?” he demanded. Surely he was too young, only a few years older than Quatre himself!
“Who, him?” Garas’ voice was deliberately casual. “No, of course not. He’s just a newcomer to the Sweepers, a lone fighter we picked up a while back.”
Quatre didn’t hear the tension underlying Garas’ tone; he was too distracted by the slightly out-of-place feeling of the black-eyed man. “What’s his name?” he said absently.
Garas shrugged with studied nonchalance. “Shen Lon, I believe. It doesn’t really matter --”
He was cut off by the sudden arrival of Heero Yuy into the scene. The young King of Yusankyo was trailing a few guards of his own, which he completely ignored as he surveyed the prisoners, then quickly paced over to speak with Rashid. Garas breathed a quick prayer of thanks for the distraction, and quickly went over to calm down the dark-haired man before he got himself killed... and everyone screwed over.
“Is this all of them?” Heero was saying to Rashid as Quatre approached.
“Your Majesty?” Quatre injected anxiously, for once in his life daring to interrupt a conversation.
“Heero,” the dark-haired boy corrected with a scowl. “For the last time, Quatre, none of that Majesty stuff.”
“Sorry. Heero --” Quatre began again, and Heero cut him off with a sharp nod.
“Better. Now, Rashid, what were you saying?” Heero turned his back on Quatre as he refocused his attention on the older man.
“Well,” Rashid started, with an apologetic glance at Quatre, “most of the rebels