2 2.

Lyra was trapped. Somehow, she had managed to find herself on the wrong end of a cliff- which was to say;

Rock.

Fucking.

Bottom.

The matte white-grey stone was steep and nearly smooth with how sheer the natural handholds on the rock looked from where she stood hunched over and bleeding out. A giggle bubbled up from deep inside her chest slipping between the part of her lips before she could stop it.

Five hundred and two years of life fighting her way into the top ranks of the galactic military. 502 years carving a name in blood for herself before she put that life behind her and started anew as the notorious pirate queen Rogue. 502 years of being the crème de la crop, the elite, the prodigy, the genius, the invincible. 502 years of being faithfully, hopelessly, incurably, in love with just one man. The very man who was hunting her now. Lyra had always thought her life amounted to so much. She thought she had lived fully and with great purpose.

She had seen undiscovered nebulas, watched stars collapse and then from the cosmic dust be reborn again. She had explored new planets, made friends with strange and alien creatures never before seen, she had put her life on the line again and again to fight for the delicate peace of the universe. But here, and now, she realized it was all for naught. It meant nothing as he and his men ate up the distance that separated them.

Her laughter as it lay dying in her throat, sounded enchanting in the stillness of the dark under the watchful gaze of millions of stars. The gentle peels echoed then faded filling a forest tainted with an aura of bloodlust briefly with an ironic gayety in which madness clung loosely to the last notes. At her lapse of attention Lyra's little fan club had taken the chance to begin surrounding her more closely. The troops converging together in a tightening semi-circle on her position.

Lyra was vastly outnumbered as well as outgunned and damn near out maneuvered because of her serious wound to the ribs.

"God dammit." She growled, her mind whirling to form a plan. Escape being priority.

If she were to risk the climb it would be suicide pure and simple. Even if she could somehow scramble up the slick stone rock-wall she found herself in front of Lyra would undoubtedly bleed out in minutes if she moved her hand. Climbing was out of the question for her but then, so was running.

With each pump of her legs a pump of blood to fuel her racing heart accompanied it. Like a leaky faucet every fresh gush of blood found itself climbing out the leak that was her wound. Running was no better choice for her in this condition. Lyra supposed her only other real option for survival was fighting... but that came with its own set of risks.

Mainly, probably bleeding out and of course her more immediate death, but mostly, and this was the real kicker, coming face to face with him. Rei.

At the very thought of him darkness crowded her features. A mix of pain and agony, betrayal and anger, hatred and loathing slid across her features in quick flashes of rolling emotions.

Lyra's fists clenched together unconsciously as she stared with a hard look of fury in her eyes looking out into the seemingly still forest. The squad's steps now so quiet as they neared. They're breathing slow, low, and even.

Lyra was no coward but when it came to him, she quite literally would rather die than have to see him again. Her hatred and anger intensified as she briefly day dreamed about ripping him apart in various ways. The visions were satisfying to a point as she bid her time waiting for the troops to reveal themselves along with him, Rei, to make his own spectacular entrance.

And so, she held her ground. Her breath. And waited.