Serene, Tranquil. Violent, Hurtful.

Yetta stood in the hangar, waiting for Crow. He was supposed to meet her for a patrol, but he was late. Crow was never late. She paced, bouncing with each step. Her red hair, delicately braided away from her face, bounced along with her. Her datapad dinged, and she started, hurrying to grab it. There was a message from Crow.

Confused, she swiped it open, reading the note. *We can't be together anymore.* Ice flooded her veins, and she froze. Jason materialized beside her, his eye flicking over the message before the ghost turned to Yetta. Before she could type a reply, Crow sent another message. *I'm your boss, we can't be together.* And just like that, the chat closed. Ice continued running through her veins. 

"Yetta…don't do anything rash-," Jason all but begged as she closed her eyes, and walked out of the hangar. 

"I won't. This is *his* choice, I have to respect it." Stopping, she turned, walking back to her ship. "What I am going to do is some research."

"On those journals?"

She nodded.

. . .

She woke up by her pad ringing. Yetta groaned, pushing the bottle off her chest. Glass clinked to the floor, rolling away from her. Her fingers fumbled, looking for the datapad, accepting the call. "Yetta, where are you?" Carman snapped.

"Home. I was sleeping," she groggily explained.

"And drinking," Jason helpfully added. "Yesterday is still being processed."

"What happened yesterday?" Carman asked. Cherry groaned from his bed, his sleep disturbed. The warbeast padded over to Yetta, still slightly limping from the visit with the Traveler. She pet his head, sighing softly. Distantly, she registered Jason filling Carman in. She wasn't processing it, per se. Crow had made his choice, and it was probably the right one. She had just been drinking last night, a moment to treat herself.

It was done, processed. A blip in her timeless existence. She wasn't hurt over it, period. Not a chance in Hell. With a soft ding, the call hung up, and Jason bumped her shoulder. "Get ready," he ordered. "We have a mission." He bumped her again.

"You mean patrol?"

"No, like, actual humanitarian mission. Get up. Get dressed, and get to the ship."

. . .

She despised the constant winter chill of Europa, the wind biting through her armor. She slipped her hood over her head as Crow came on her comms. "Alright, Carman's sending you in alone. I don't agree with the choice, per se, but she's on standby if you need her."

"What's the job?" Yetta asked. Tension was thick over the comms, and she knew they both probably needed to talk about yesterday.

"There was a distress call we need you to answer. Her name is Eremis, her and her house are under attack. Be careful around her, she's…" Carman trailed off. "Just be careful. I don't know how she'll respond to you."

Yetta nodded, not that either of them could see her, and took off running, following her tracker. "Remember, don't hurt any Eliksni. We're trying to get them out of here, preferably alive. Hold your fire."

"Hold my fire, got it." She shouldered her rifle, waving at the different Eliksni she passed, several of them scrambling to get away from one particular door. She slowed down, gripping the butt of her gun. "Um…"

Cherry sniffed the air, snarling and crouching low to the ground. Yetta brought her gun to both hands, readying it to fire. "Would that order happen to include holding fire on the Scorn?" she sarcastically asked. She knew it didn't, and even if it did, she wouldn't follow that order. Before either of them could answer, she left the call, and barged into the room, readying her grenade.

Scorn lunged at her, and she threw, the flash from its charges blinding her. A claw dug its way under a her shoulder pad, yanking. She punched behind her, turning quickly on her heels to make sure it hit. The scorn stumbled back, a ravager. The lantern type item it carried swung wildly in the air, before being swung in circles and launched at Yetta. Cherry jumped in, powerful jaws clamping down over the ravager's head.

She cleared the room out quickly, her knuckles sore, Arc energy racing through her veins. Her golden eyes glowed dangerously, static bouncing from her fingertips. She entered the call again. "One room dealt with," she declared. "Pressing on."

"How many times did you die?" Carman sounded skeptical.

"One."

. . .

Crow knew Yetta well. She was always an open book. But the dangerous lilt in her voice, gravely and sharp, was new to him. He looked to Carman, both of them sitting in the Helm, waiting for the call. Whether that call was because Yetta needed help, or she had completed the task, that remained to be seen. Jason was sending periodic videos of Yetta fighting. There were a couple times she dug her fingers into Scorn eyes, yanking them along. 

She was clawing her way through the rooms, literally. It was a little scary, Crow had to admit. A little scary, a little hot. Now he had an answer for why she always came back from patrols, covered in blood. 

"She's doing better than we thought," Carman mused, her fingers tapping the surface of the counter. "A little violent, but she's making it." They watched as Yetta, bleeding, ducked away during a fight to catch her breath. "Crow." He flinched as a habit, Carman's voice stern.

"Yes?" he asked. Her purple eyes had landed on him, the exo taking a deep breath. 

"Over text? Really?" she asked. He knew what she was talking about. 

"Couldn't face her. I didn't know-."

"She's a big girl, she can handle it. She's handling it right now. I think the biggest issue she has right now, is you weren't brave enough to face her." Carman sat back. "That's what she needed. Not a text-and-run." Her voice stayed stern. 

"I know, I know. I'll make things right."

"You'd better." She sat up. "Put her in some therapy too, if she lets you. Poor girl needs some."

Crow looked at Carman strangely. "Does it have to do with the pale heart? I thought she was going."

"Before the pale heart- oh…she hasn't told you yet, poor boy." Carman sipped from her thermos, going quiet.

"Told me what?"