| Posted by Xebidos (Darqwan) on 12-03-2001 | |
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"Jus' do as she says!" Taken aback by Getthel's seriousness, Xeb nodded. The mood of the room, not to mention the mood in general, had taken a sharp turn down competitive lane. Xeb wasn't surprised by the determination, nor the tactics that were being outlined to him with simple, yet definite detail. He just wished it wasn't so. Yet he believed himself in an unfit place to judge them all. Having been employed and self employed as a smuggler, Xeb had been called upon to do acts of an even more violent, and more purposeful nature. It was an accepted part of the smuggling life. How could he hold such a double standard, when the intention were non-fatal, merely slight harm and destruction? But this...is different, he said to himself. Frowning slightly, he was agitated at himself for not being able to distinguish exactly why it was different or indeed, justify his stance at all. Regardless of his misgivings, especially now that they had come so late, Xeb knew that there was no turning back now. Swallowed up in a sport he had barely been introduced to and immediately made acquaintance to the side of it he'd rather not have met, Xeb was truly overwhelmed, far more than the atmosphere that lay thick just outside the pits could have. There's got to be something I can do, I mean, I can't just go and bash this...Katzl because I was told to What to do, however, still eluded him. With alarming speed, all notions of fun and thrills were gone. The flight of fantasy was over, and having truly landed, Xeb found he had not gotten very far from the bleak, the depressing galaxy at all. But the situation was not as hopeless as Xeb would have imagined. He knew that there was something he could do here, something to add to the Pazurkan sunshine that for the time being, did not shine in the little room (and Xeb would have guessed, did not shine in any other). Having only the barest of skills in racing against a cadre of experienced experts and veterans alike was not so completely unfamiliar as he would have thought. His meager resources, knowledge, and abilities had somehow prevailed in the past, and with a little luck and a lot of hope, Xeb believed they could prevail again. Or at least I could give the damn thing a go... Now all he needed was a purpose. Having ruled out Lerros group as the beneficiary of his modest contribution and ruling himself out o any contention, Xeb spent the remainder of his pre-race time roaming the pits, anxious, desperate to find some beacon of virtue and goodness amongst the assembled racers. "But I wouldn' be here if I hadn' wrecked one of Xvrena's sheps..." Bemused, Xeb gazed after the Veknoid's exit, finding amusement at Getthel's haplessness despite his employment with Xvrena. Exchanging a shrug for Teri's look, Xeb just replied simply, "I just won't crash then. Easy." His eyes resuming their scan of the other racers, Xeb wondered whether what he was planning, what he was doing, was the best thing to do. Often paralysed with such questions, Xeb found himself stuck on it once more. In the end however, he had to conceed: there was no other alternative. Blast this conscience!, he berated himself, half out of jest, half out of ardent disdain. Stomping off in an effort to quell his annoyance, he stopped halfway to the next pit, turned, then took Teri in an almost forgotten, but sincere, embrace. "Just doing some research", he hugged her again, not telling her that he feared it may be the last one he could give. And there's a slim possibility..., he continued, his paranoia slipping in. "Why don't you and Ahrkid find the others. I'll be ok...I won't do anything Koyle-ish", he winked at both of them. He leaned in closer, taking in the aroma of Teri's hair...noting that it might be the last time he got to do that, too. "Wish me luck?", he asked, whispering. With the farewells over, Xeb was back onto the business of racing. Business..., Xeb sighed. He had thought that racing and business weren't supposed to go together. This time at least, they did, and first order of business was to find a worthy racer that should benefit from his aid. No matter how inept it is... With Marow and Zhoo already written off by both programme and Xeb as trouble makers, Xeb had his hopes pinned on the other two favourites, Ctulu Katzl and Cabu D'Oro. Hoping for an easier time of it all, he wanted it to be Katzl. Then it would simply be a case of letting her race without his obstruction. But if it was D'Oro, then it could only mean one thing: A tangle with Getthel. Reluctant, apprehensive, but most of all, wary, Xeb searched the other pits, hoping to find somebeing that played fair...