A drop of blood. A single drop of blood rolled down his face. And with that warm excretion rolling down his skin, his nose being stained the scarlet color of red ink, a single thought strolled across his mind.<br/><br/>"I don't want to die."<br/><br/>And with that single thought, Kri pulled his sorry ass up to his feet, and prepared himself for the fight of his life. As drew his sword from the sheath on his back, staggering across the floor and dripping blood from the gash upon his head, he began to run. His vision was fuzzy, but a hell of a lot better than when he laid under a pile of smoldering rubble. He knew that the soj would be upon him in a matter of moments. He knew with certainty that they had most likely gotten to many of the members of the crew... That thought alone made him choke upon his own spit. He knew, as the second in command, he was responsible for the overview of security on the ship. But the ones under him... They hadn't had a chance to report anything to him. He hoped that they had gotten to Alfie, and warned her in time. Now that he thought about it, in this moment of fuzzy clarity, he realized he didn't want to live without his crew.<br/><br/>His vision was getting worse. He knew he had to get to the scout ship hangar, though he had no idea if he would be able to make it in time. His sword, which was always so light, felt like dead weight in his hand. He put it back in his sheath, praying to all of the gods that he wouldn't encounter the soj. They had hopefully thought him dead and left him, under the pile of smoldering wreckage. His jacket, the one left with it... It prevented most major burns, and he was grateful for it. It was made of some sort of fire retardant material. Still, he would have to consult Fiske when he made it out.<br/><br/>If they all made it.<br/><br/>He still clung to that small hope, that small, irrational part of him that said that everyone would make it out.<br/><br/>It was then in a heart-stopping moment that he heard the footsteps behind him. He didn't turn. He hoped that he had not been seen. He knew it was the soj, and he turned a corner that let far from where the hangar was. He kept running, and only then did he turn. His heart leapt to his throat when he saw that it wasn't the soj.<br/><br/>"Alfhild!"<br/><br/>She was running toward the hangar, and over the noise of the burning and crackling, snapping and popping, he knew she didn't hear him. Even with superhuman hearing, no one could have heard over the massive groaning of the ship falling apart. So, despite his woozy head, his disability to be heard, and his severe wounds, he began to run once more. He chased after her with all of his ability, but in his weakened state, she was faster. She was already at the hangar when he got back to the turn, and he knew that once he made it there...<br/><br/>Kri gave it one last burst of energy, and was able to make it to the hangar. Black dots danced across his vision, and he almost celebrated. Until he saw the last scout ship, leaving and blasting off to the stars.<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>"Ugghhhh..."<br/><br/>The groan that came from Kri's lips was nothing short of a snarl, one that seemed like it could come from a bear. Maybe it was from being around Alfhild too long. That thought alone brought a chuckle to his lips, and it was then that his ears registered his alarm.<br/><br/>Well. The day started off with a bundle of<span style="font-style: italic">dritt.</span>He got up out of bed, stumbling in his fur blankets and falling to the floor with a thud. His closet hung ajar, and paper and ink sat on his desk where the letter he had been working on sat unfinished. Correspondence was his job, and he didn't take it lightly. He had become a master at forging handwriting as well, so he could theoretically put two species at war against themselves.<br/><br/>That, of course, was not his decision. So as he pulled on bearskin boxers, which again reminded him, with a hearty chuckle, of Alfie, some pants made of material that was from some other race's technology, and his jacket, he stood in pretty high spirits. The peace had gone on relatively undisturbed for quite some time, though he still had a habit of wearing his armor. Alfhild had gifted him with armor that matched his fighting style perfectly. It was incredibly light, as light as someone's normal clothes, though it was much less strong than Alfie's power suit. He often times couldn't lift that girl's armor, much less wear it.<br/><br/>As he got all of his clothes where they were supposed to be, he loaded his neck pocket with all of its normal commodities. He then strapped his sword across his back, it effortlessly falling to cover his scar. It stung a bit, and he knew he would have to have Fiske look at it again rather soon. He was finally suitable for lunch, and in suit with his role of second in command, he threw open the door and began running down the hall like a lunatic.<br/><br/>Damn, was it good not to think about dying.<br/><br/>Isa, as usual, passed him just as he was about to enter the dining hall. He sighed, though his face was one of contentedness. He saw Alfhild in line and jumped in behind her, punching her shoulder as she turned to look out to the dining hall. All was well on the ship, and it was reflected in her face as well as his own. "A shame peace like this can't last forever, isn't it?" He asked her, his friendship toward her bleeding through his voice. They had been through a lot together. He was glad things were going smooth for once.