the giant baby driver

Loving Sphinxes in no particular measure beyond that which equals the respect they hold for a beast that can spike back more readily and efficiently than any mimeosome build, Seren is only waiting for the day when they can pick off Feliciano the same way Feliciano's been picking off them - idly, and often, without so much as a swing of its tail.

They'd been hesitant to inform Seer of as much of the same, since xe finds so many of Mira's native inhabitants so charming, so sentient, so lovable. It's why he lets Al do most of the soloing, while he takes a tour in Ares looking for Galjim Crystals (xe won't stop until it's found at least ninety-nine, and then some more just to be safe and for sharing with Celica). Endbringer is a friend, not a Tyrant bent on ruling the fates from a divine roost.

Absolutely! Who's to say there's that huge of a difference between any of these pack-bonded primates and theroids, piscinoids and walking mountains, and the xenos that NLA has elected to call refugees? If Seren could translate their grunts and sighs (oh, the falling cry of a Lophid...anything to hear something else) into intelligible calls, they would, with immediacy.

But Feliciano doesn't say anything, just spins around and drops a Flame Mortar on whoever flinched first, or just everyone. Hopefully not on the Itinerant Saltats roaming nearby, though.

It took a few bouts with the nearest Gularth to hand to get those antispike augments ready, but now with the violet gems slotted in to their Ultra Regal Infinite whatever-the-heck-it-is equipment (thanks, Barnabas, because of Squallo, and also Agnes, probably), Seren's ready to go.

So ready. Born ready. On-the-horn ready.

Readier than they ever were to square up with Buchwald, since they'd assumed destroying appendages would do something, but then it...didn't. It had felt like days on end, though - multiple and many. They'd thought about getting Secretary Nagi a commemorative t-shirt (courtesy of some Ma-non who'd no doubt love to learn to silk-screen some "I'm so so hot for hot hot pizza, yes?" slogans) that described it: "I took Seren to the Rockmole's Burrow and all I got was Body."

Seren had just shrugged as they'd finally passed out, deciding that Buchwald's HRT was just too powerful for mortal and/or mim minds to comprehend. If they'd finished the fight, well, then what would that say about their views on intersex trans women?

Back to Feliciano. Seer doesn't even like Oblivia that much, right? It prefers Noctilum above all, then Primordia, then...

Well. No, xe likes Oblivia better than Sylvalum or, heaven forbid, Cauldros. He likes the places Sphinxes are found, and Sphinxes are about to be found by one Seren Sirius, so long as one Seren Sirius isn't found by one Seer Torna.

"Just get it done, just get it done," Seren mutters to themself, exiting their Skell a safe distance away and trying not to get to distracted by the Saltats proboscis-pirouetting all throughout the ravine.

Warmup is Climati - how had that ever been anything but an idle chore? Seren has only a phantom memory of being launched, and launched, and launched, all about the mouth of the ravine.

Then to Felix Felicis (no, that's not right, but it's a shame if it's not, because it's funny), with a passion and a prayer. Seren walks up behind it, targets the tail, and fires exactly one raygun shot to get it going, before really getting into it. Overdrive is a bit of a blast to slip into, in that if poorly timed, Seren could be stancing up right in the middle of an attack they should be defending against, but they make it, they make it.

Only one round of TP, good. Why? Seren's not sure. They just...don't feel like wasting it. Right?

Get the counter going, Smooth Recovery (thanks Irina, which means thanks Spica) into Myopic Screen, Beam Barrage, Subterfuge because they've got nothing else to do, and go again - how about a little bit more purple? Yeah? Another one?

The timer flashes red, way sooner than Seren had expected. No...not Hellhound tapping out? Desperately, they throw up buff after buff, but each only prolongs the inevitable.

Just like that, Overdrive is over.

It's no big sweat, because Feliciano is just a little kitty cat without its counter spike, but as Seren stands there sour-faced, idly swiping at the whiskers with their favorite Diamond Iyst, they feel particularly unfulfilled.

This isn't how it's supposed to be, with Tyrants. They're giving one-hundred percent, so you give them one-hundred-ten, or at least a solid and righteous ninety-nine.

Ninety-nine problems, and an Ares core ain't one, until right now. He just loooves showing up unannounced. And normally Seren would love it too, yelling an incredulous "HI?" right at him, but now...

The Skell descends, elbow by palm. Seer looks intrigued, but doesn't speak first.

"Hiiiii," says Seren, faux-cheery. "Hi," replies Seer, tone flat.

"I was just...playing," they squirm, showing every one of their chiclet teeth. "Where were you?"

"With the Brobdingnagians..." Seer trails off. To prevent further inquiry, Seren replies, "Oh, right, the brob-a-ding-a-dans! Fun!"

The red-centered eyes neither narrow in suspicion nor widen in jubilation. Feliciano anxiously paws the ground.

"Were you killing pookie?" xe asks, once again completely without inflection.

Okayyy.

"I said I was playing - right, bud? You agree?"

Feliciano lids its eyes and serves profile.

It really doesn't pay to save your TP, then, does it?

Seer shakes his head, and Seren's not sure he isn't laughing. "No Primer for you, Seren. If you can't keep it going, you're done. Sorry!"

But all the way back to the barracks, Seren keeps up their end of the tease - "Overdrive, my one true love... Nothing can keep me from you! Not even alternative Duelists with fruity little piercings!"

Whether or not Seer wishes it could turn off the intercom, it doesn't, because he knows that Seren's always sworn never to turn off theirs.

shoutout to STM just generally. monarch of the backbone of the fandom