In the 10,000 year war going on throughout the universe, there are too many who despise Zarkon's rule. But none will act on their hate, too scared of the consequences. The biggest rebelling force against the Galra to date are the Olympians. And thei...
I'm alive. Voltron has its claws in me again. This isn't proof read.
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Trip's original intentions, if she survived the challenge, had been to go back to the castle the same day. The plan against Zarkon was elaborate and required all hands on deck, even if hers shook when she stood still. The last thing they all needed was to fall behind because she couldn't do her part.
She may be stubborn, but she knows when she's on the losing end of a battle that she shouldn't fight. And going against Haylie to get to the pod was a challenge she wouldn't get away from unscathed.
She still didn't like the idea of just sitting around the hut as if she had a day off. She was the commander, and she had big decisions to make when it came to Olympia's part of the plan against Zarkon. Their troops had to be properly placed with the right teams with the right skills. Her own team had to be put together, and that included finding another two members that fit the remaining three perfectly.
So she'd fumbled her way into the war room, with Keith right behind her like he was waiting for her to collapse. But, in his favor, she also felt like she would fall to the ground with one wrong step. Her sheathed sword was used as a cane instead of a weapon, and her cape was too heavy for her wounded arms to drag behind her.
Sitting in a chair, arms crossed over the edge and her head hanging lowly, she couldn't feel any tactics come to mind.
"Trip," Keith says from across the table, where he sat in the only other, "you haven't touched anything on the map for 15 minutes."
"Honestly," she sighs, head throbbing, "I can't even read the numbers on the markers right now."
Even the numbers of their sections had blurred into sloppy writing. She could vaguely remember where some of them were because they had been stationed in the same spot for so long. She didn't want to pick any of them up without a plan on where to put it, for fear of forgetting where she got it from. It was a losing battle to try and plan a war with a serious concussion.
Keith fiddles with a pin with a number of a retired ship on it, flipping it between his long fingers and staring at her position.
Hunched over, dried blood on her hair and body, bandages around her arm. It was, no doubt, an unpleasant sight to see. But he didn't react with anything other than the occasional comment.
"I told you to rest, but you wanted to come in here and stare at a map."
"I cannot express how much I don't care about your complaining right now." Slowly, her head lifts so she can actually see him. The spinning of the marker in his hand was making her nauseous, and she tried not to look at it. He stopped when he saw her eyes had lifted from the map of the galaxy.
"So that's Haylie," he comments, looking at the little red flag in his grasp, "she seems..."
