Hihi! You mentioned on AO3 you have no prompts for Ulaz and Shiro right now, so...if you're still taking prompts, would you mind writing one about Ulaz and Shiro - maybe at the Blade headquarters? Thanks!
Ohhhh I do not mind. I do not mind at all.
Technically they aren’t at the Blade headquarters here, but. Um. I’m not sorry.
Kolivan is not pleased when Ulaz calls him from halfway across the galaxy.
“There were no other options,” Ulaz repeats, for the third time. Kolivan stares back at him from the communication screen, silent and impassive. His mask is down, but it’s no improvement: Kolivan’s face is nearly as stoic and unreadable as if he had the mask up.
Nearly. Ulaz isn’t fooled. The tick in the corner of Kolivan’s eye and the small flare of his nostrils give him away.
“Be that as it may,” Kolivan says. His tone speaks volumes, too: brusque, blunt, syllables sharper and harsher than usual. ‘Not pleased’ is an understatement. “I cannot permit you to come blindly back to headquarters after such a foolish sacrifice.”
“My actions were not foolish,” Ulaz insists, defensive and heated. The comm unit in the stolen Galra ship is small, made smaller by the tracking devices Ulaz ripped out and dismantled with his bare hands. The ship was intended for short journeys; it was never meant to make the long trek Ulaz faces now. “Against your timing, perhaps, but not foolish. Thace is still on board. He will remain as informant for as long as physically and feasibly possible.”
“The choice was not yours to make.”
“And yet I have made it.”
“At what cost?” Kolivan asks. The comm image blurs for a tick before it steadies, stable. “Your plan has failed. This was your alternative?”
Ulaz casts a glance over his shoulder. Shiro’s asleep, propped up against the far wall - ‘far’ is a generous statement. This ship is too small. Shiro’s tucked his back into a corner, his arm cradled to his chest. He’s sleeping off the drug and what Ulaz is fairly certain is a concussion.
“No,” Ulaz admits, quietly, “This was not part of my plan.”