Sly - Wildstar's Literatures

Sly has a very strange dream that leaves her confused.

Bird and Sly hook up in a dive bar.

Bird contemplates his relationship with Sly after a night together.

Soft tones echoed off the empty walls of the warehouse as shadows loomed among the boxes. There was a smattering of humanity strewn about in a lazy half circle from where one woman was set into a chair with the sole source of light directly above her head. The woman was bound to the chair, looking to be a human female in her late thirties with auburn hair. Her form cowered on her seat as all eyes watched her.

They watched leaning against walls, perched on boxes, or just idly standing by and chatting among themselves. Rocks. Rabbits. Rotters. Round-ears; they all waited. They knew exactly why they were here. An example had to be made.

“You fucked up, Reese.” A voice from across the room spoke as a hush fell over the waiting figures as a smaller form stepped into the light of the lamp above. Bright green fur, perky rabbit ears and a feral smile topped off with a deep crimson bloom nestled in her thick locks; Sly was looking healthy after five months.

This dream was always bittersweet for Sly. The specifics always shifted each time it recurred–the position, the length–but there were some constants as well. It was the one time she could see him again.

She had been recovering from an experimental nanite injection when it happened. Some hitman got the jump on her and Bird when she was still acclimating to the new tech. She was still raw. Still sore. Still too fresh from the operation to stay the blade that sought her neck.

Instead, that blade found itself buried in Bird’s sternum. He warded the would-be killer off, but not without leaving her alone as he faded into the void in her arms, left with only a puddle of blood and a rune marking her.