Multiuse blog containing ocs and canons from various media. Loved by Kadie.
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“Hi John,” She smiled softly, understanding. She slipped into the other side of the booth easily. He’s tired, she can see that. She wondered how long he’s been running. “Yea, I decided to get out of my work clothes and wear something personal for a change, thanks.”
She’s silent, but she breaks it so that he knows why she was here.
“I...Don’t normally go looking for people,” She started to explain. “I let people try and give me an invitation, but I only go to people for business or trying to settle some old shit.”
She’s not good at opening up. Not for a century, nor is she good with feelings. Dana made it clear, and made it vocally known to Ross. But now? She wanted him to know when she held him out of a glass window at the empire state building. But she hid her rage well, because right now, someone needed kindness.
“But you? People fucked up and you paid a horrible price when you shouldn’t have had to,” She continued as she pulled the coffee towards her. “So I wanted to find you, because I was worried about you and frankly I don’t want you to be alone suffering in this.”
the memory is a snapshot; a diamond in the rough, a singular moment that he remembers like poetry dripping in holy metaphor. he had never before been so reverent of the path he had taken, and never would he again; all his life he had suffered to become, and that becoming, after a single divine moment, had led only to further decline.
now, only recently released from a series of efforts to rehabilitate him so that he might be an effective apparatus for heroism again, he is being handed a new shield- not Captain Rogers’- and being told to find a path and walk it, separate from the Captain America identity now beholden to Wilson. he’s fine with that.
what he doesn’t know is who’s going to walk that path with him, so he’s sitting in a diner in Georgia instead, shield in his bag wedged into the booth beside him and staring pensively into a coffee mug at the reflection of strands of dirty blond hair he really needs to cut to stay within the strict military regulations he tries so hard to govern himself by.
John Walker is feeling a little lost, but that’s okay. he’ll figure it out. he has to.
One of the perks of becoming one with the Magpie? She could easily give off the appearance of a normal person, without her mismatched eyes or her mangled hand. Times had changed, and Dana changed with them more than she ever had. But there was a confidence she had, especially now that there was peace.
Even though there was peace, there would always be ghosts. Abraham Erskine was forever an immortal ghost. His immortality came in the form of his legacy of Captain America, aka Steve Rogers. And now he would be gone, with another taking his place. The question was who, and many had their ideas. Personally, she would have Bucky or Sam, but the government had already decided the name John Walker would become part of that legacy immortalizing Erskine.
It didn’t work out so well. despite everything she poured towards Ross and the bastards of the federal government, they failed John and now he probably beared the scars of their failures. She needed to make it right not just for Erskine, but to John as well. Which was why she was out here at night, in the middle of Georgia parked outside a diner. She then exited out the car and headed into the diner momentarily looking for John. When she did she headed his way.
She wasn’t wearing her trademark trenchcoat. Rather, she wore punkish floral with her hair in a ponytail which was a change from her suit or her casual 90s punk. Peace provided a wonderful time for floral and the time for nice things. Nice things including a simple saunter rather than a rushed stride. She realized she had nothing planned to say, or how to approach him.
What she did instead was to gently tap the table to get his attention and say:
“Hey.”
the memory is a snapshot; a diamond in the rough, a singular moment that he remembers like poetry dripping in holy metaphor. he had never before been so reverent of the path he had taken, and never would he again; all his life he had suffered to become, and that becoming, after a single divine moment, had led only to further decline.
now, only recently released from a series of efforts to rehabilitate him so that he might be an effective apparatus for heroism again, he is being handed a new shield- not Captain Rogers’- and being told to find a path and walk it, separate from the Captain America identity now beholden to Wilson. he’s fine with that.
what he doesn’t know is who’s going to walk that path with him, so he’s sitting in a diner in Georgia instead, shield in his bag wedged into the booth beside him and staring pensively into a coffee mug at the reflection of strands of dirty blond hair he really needs to cut to stay within the strict military regulations he tries so hard to govern himself by.
John Walker is feeling a little lost, but that’s okay. he’ll figure it out. he has to.
𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒
Five years after the supposed death of Jim Moriarty the consulting criminal has come back to wreak havoc in London. Will you be a part of the effort to dismantle the criminal’s empire once again, an aid to his cause, or perhaps just another person just trying to get through it all and make the best of their lives? The time is now, the day is here, and London is calling.
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Once she’s up and centered, Lucie with the bag in mouth, slowly creeps up to the large man, curious. She had seen big men, like her fake-father Lincoln and the blonde squishy John. But never had she met someone huger. She figured that he meant no harm, that the bumping was accidental. She slowly trotted over, curious and softly sniffing at his shoes.
Meanwhile, Dana retreats her hand. Was it how things were done in his universe? She wasn’t sure about this, however it was worth asking
“I’m Dana.” She introduces herself. She wasn’t here for injuries, despite appearing in that manner of sorts. They happened long ago, now dull, only to electrify at any memory relating to it. “And I hope you get better soon.”
At that she offered him a smile at the very least. “You doing anything currently? I was wondering if you’d like a tour. I could show you around while I’m running some errands.”
How long has it been since Dana came to this world, and to this small and peaceful town abundant with people coming and going? She didn’t count, but she estimated it to be almost a month. But the pain in her loving heart didn’t stop hurting. Love that will never be requited, and it hurts. The love specifically was over Jean and Logan, and how they were happier together in a menagerie of euphoric love.
But here Dana was, alone and without that euphoria, and in pain over it.
To try and get it over with for the times to many, Dana decided to go out and grab a couple things for dinner, hoping it will ease her mind off of this. Donning a light blue halter dress, she emerged from the door without her arm, retreating into her body and an eyepatch over her scarred left barefooted. She had no need for her ‘prosthesis’, she was in place with no need of it. Lucie came to her side, trotting with an empty basket in hand.
The roads and sidewalks were clean, nicely paved so there was no need for shoes. And Dana’s ‘Magpie’ rendered her somewhat impervious to that. She was lost in thought over what kind of seafood to buy when ‘WHAM’ a large shadow emerged, the impact knocking her to the ground. Lucie barked and as Dana looked around to see who it was, it was only when she looked up when she saw who it was. And by Thor’s hammer they were huge.
@multitudescontained
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i know you were way too bright for me
i'm hopeless, broken
what happened to the soul that you used to be?
i'm searching for something that I can't reach
She was in awe. He was bigger than Thor or John back in her world. But she couldn’t help but find a similarity in one another, given they were both one-armed at the moment. She shakes herself out of her awe when his hand is presented to her. She holds his hand, using it as support while she pulled herself up, and Lucie ever so helpful, pushed Dana from behind up.
“It’s not a problem,” She assured him smiling. Looking at him closer now, it would be easy to compare him to a large teddy bear. Then again, she often thought of it everytime she met someone taller than her. Or in rare cases someone shorter than her.
“Are you new here?” She asked curiously. She hadn’t seen him here in the month she remained here. It would make sense if he was, considering people coming and going here all the time.
How long has it been since Dana came to this world, and to this small and peaceful town abundant with people coming and going? She didn’t count, but she estimated it to be almost a month. But the pain in her loving heart didn’t stop hurting. Love that will never be requited, and it hurts. The love specifically was over Jean and Logan, and how they were happier together in a menagerie of euphoric love.
But here Dana was, alone and without that euphoria, and in pain over it.
To try and get it over with for the times to many, Dana decided to go out and grab a couple things for dinner, hoping it will ease her mind off of this. Donning a light blue halter dress, she emerged from the door without her arm, retreating into her body and an eyepatch over her scarred left barefooted. She had no need for her ‘prosthesis’, she was in place with no need of it. Lucie came to her side, trotting with an empty basket in hand.
The roads and sidewalks were clean, nicely paved so there was no need for shoes. And Dana’s ‘Magpie’ rendered her somewhat impervious to that. She was lost in thought over what kind of seafood to buy when ‘WHAM’ a large shadow emerged, the impact knocking her to the ground. Lucie barked and as Dana looked around to see who it was, it was only when she looked up when she saw who it was. And by Thor’s hammer they were huge.
@multitudescontained
How long has it been since Dana came to this world, and to this small and peaceful town abundant with people coming and going? She didn’t count, but she estimated it to be almost a month. But the pain in her loving heart didn’t stop hurting. Love that will never be requited, and it hurts. The love specifically was over Jean and Logan, and how they were happier together in a menagerie of euphoric love.
But here Dana was, alone and without that euphoria, and in pain over it.
To try and get it over with for the times to many, Dana decided to go out and grab a couple things for dinner, hoping it will ease her mind off of this. Donning a light blue halter dress, she emerged from the door without her arm, retreating into her body and an eyepatch over her scarred left barefooted. She had no need for her ‘prosthesis’, she was in place with no need of it. Lucie came to her side, trotting with an empty basket in hand.
The roads and sidewalks were clean, nicely paved so there was no need for shoes. And Dana’s ‘Magpie’ rendered her somewhat impervious to that. She was lost in thought over what kind of seafood to buy when ‘WHAM’ a large shadow emerged, the impact knocking her to the ground. Lucie barked and as Dana looked around to see who it was, it was only when she looked up when she saw who it was. And by Thor’s hammer they were huge.
@multitudescontained
“Alright good to know.”
For a moment she was proud of her idea, always instantaneous and on the go. They knew where to go from here, and were much closer than anticipated. After the man in the comms gave a sense of direction, she doused the flares in a puddle of water, and grabbed her pistol. She also adjusted the strap for her bag, until she realized Sev was booking it, confusing Shima initially.
Then, it hit her. This whole jungle was swarming with not only wookies, but also enemy droids. And those flares? They basically signaled a free for all to their current location, thanks to her.
As soon as the idea clicked in her head, she was sprinting full speed with everything in tow, as the leaves flew off. Soon enough she was catching up to Sev,her talons leaving marks in the ground with every push forward.
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor...
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead...
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.
She stared back unflinching in her helpful attempt. She kept his eye on him as he applied the medicine, making sure he didn’t hide it away. Only when it was all used up was she satisfied. Sev as it turned out, was one tough nut to crack, that she can only assume was because of the lack of emotional care up until he met her in this jungle.
Her eyes lit up at the sudden voice from seemingly out of nowhere. She scootched closer to listen to the voice. Was it one of Sev’s? A clone trooper like him? She wondered if he would look the same like Sev or if Sev looked like Fi?
She rustles in her bag, only to pull out two large flares. Using her talons, she popped the tops of, they hiss a bright red smoke as she stands up and holds them high.
“Depends can you guys see this smoke?” She shouts over the comms.
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor...
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead...
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.
“You’ve been alone all this time?” Her eyes widened upon hearing this, worry in her mismatched eyes as they casted concern unto him. The worry grows even more when she sees all of his wounds and bites. Is this what clone troopers endured when abandoned? Or was this for those alone, far away from civilizations during the fighting?
She then rummaged in her bag among the treasures and pulled out some more bacta, along with some bandages if needed. Setting the bandages in the shade she offered them to Sev.
“I want you to use some of mine.” It wasn’t an offer, but an assertive demand. If they were both gonna get out of the jungle, then she needed to make sure he was gonna be ok. Pulling the blaster to her side, she places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Take all the time you need ok?”
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor...
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead...
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.
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“Humanity First!”
Words once just spoken among drunken coworkers and friends in dingy bars, has grown into an actual plot against the aliens and metas who call Earth home. Operating in cells guided by a yet to be identified leader—the group has turned a sentiment into action. Humanity First has arrived on the scene with a bang, attacking four major locations at the same time and causing death and destruction. Can Humanity First be stopped before more damage is done?
She pulls out a bottle water and holds it out for him as she sits down next to him without saying another word. They made it this far. Him especially, Sev. Shima could’ve gone on for a little longer, but she wasn’t alone right now.
She had someone, someone human who wasn’t used to this weather right now, despite being a clone trooper. Clone troopers were fragile, just like any other human, as such they were prone to human flaws.
“You’re welcome Sev.” She said offering him a gentle smile.
Especially getting wet in rain like this. And he was so soaked to the bone from the look of it. Didn’t the clones ever hear of self-care? Or at the very least on planets like this, how to make a poncho? Looking up at some of the trees, she spotted huge leaves. Having an idea, She stood up again and walked to one of the trees. She climbed up the trunks with her talons providing her stability without the need of rope.
Pulling out her arm blade, she cut down on of the bigger leaves, hell, leaves bigger than her entire body. Sliding back down she held it over him, providing some shelter for the two of them both.
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor...
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead...
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.
“Alright, to the wookies we go,” She accepted and began walking in the very direction she pointed. Though if it was necessary, they’d take a break in a couple hours. Not just a break, but for Shima to figure out what she was gonna do with all that armor. She couldn’t imagine anyone being comfortable in that armor, let alone for long period of time.
Even clones couldn’t be comfortable during all of that could they?
A few hours later...
The rain kept pouring with no end, despite making some headway. While Shima could tolerate the heat, she couldn’t tolerate the thought of Sev suffering any further in that armor, even if he didn’t say so himself.
“Hey Sev, do you wanna take a break?” Shima asked her companion looking back at him. “It must be really hot under all that armor.”
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor...
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead...
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.
“Obviously you’re not Sev, cause you have a name, so you that makes you as valuable as me,” She pointed out. “Don’t forget that.”
She hated that word, expendable. Her father taught her as a child that life was valuable, all of it, even the copied. That everything was part of a bigger picture and every small detail counted. He was also human given he had emotion towards his squadron. Caring that burned in his armor, even if he didn’t want to admit. There was no need to say it aloud. She could tell, that was all she needed.
“I’ve got a ship a little far from here,” She pointed out in the further depths of the jungle. She also remembered it was beyond a tribe’s territory. Hopefully, no trouble would come to pass. Though, she’d have to make sure he didn’t pass out in that armor.
“If you want, you can hitch a ride with me off this place. And from there, I could help you find your squad.” She offered/
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor...
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead...
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.
She always hated the idea of leaving someone behind, even if they were a clone trooper. It wasn’t strategic, unless you had a plan to go back for them. Especially for clones. Even for them, as they still breathe and bleed the same as anyone did.
“Shima,” She introduced herself as she extended out a hand. Despite the eyes and the possible knowing he was a copy, he was still human. And from the look of it, one in need of help too. Also one who did not do well in the humidity the way his hair curled in the rain. The humidity was kind to no one, but it didn’t bother her as much due to her numbness to it.
“Do you want to go back to them?” Despite the decision?”
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor...
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead...
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.
When she pulled the branch aside, she was greeted with a vivid visage of pure, unadulterated and animalistic red. The second thing she was greeted was a silhouette of a man drowning in animalistic red, only to realize it was just his armor drowning in it and not him. There was a gentle curiosity in her mismatched eyes that only dissipated at the site of a weapon pointed at her.
She slowly back away, to indicate no harm, even sliding her blade back into her prosthetic. She never really got into politics, only knowing there was a war between the Trade Federation and the Republic.
“No, I’m not,” She answered. She was surprised at the harsh baritone of his voice, like thunder in a dark storm. “And I know you’re not one either, but aren’t you a little alone, away from the Republic?”
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor...
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead...
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.
She whipped her head at the sound of sparks, growing concerned at the new thought that she is not the only one in these jungles. Talons now cleaned, she readied them as she balled up her left all black prosthetic arm into a fist, a sudden blade sprung out of the arm. The entire black prosthetic was cherished gift from her father, no longer of this world.
With her blade in hand, she slowly crept to the bush, determined to confront rather than run away, a sense that she had yet to develop in the extended life she has. She rationalized that if her blade didn’t do the trick, then perhaps her heavy bag of treasures would do the trick. That is if she could pull off the trick so to speak.
As she became close to the bush, Shima slowly pulled the brush away. While anticipating the possible someone on the other side, there was also an unsure air she began to breath.
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor...
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead...
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.
Her ship was a few miles off from where she was. As a result, Shima did not prepare for the rain and had to create a makeshift raincoat made up of the huge leaves that inhabited the massive jungle. She promised herself a nice shower once she got herself out of here, with her trove of treasures she scavenged from the dead ships,
Getting out of the brush was no joke, the mud kept pulling Shima in and made her talons hard to grip. It was an endeavoring test not to trip over herself. Yet despite it all, Kashyyyk reminded her of her home in the summer of monsoons. The petrichor was always a welcoming smell in the morning and she could only imagine it would be the same here when the morning comes. Eventually, she arrived at a clearing in the middle of the forest.
Lifting her hood she looked up at the raining sky, as it washed any grime on her away. This place looked unfamiliar, and she wondered if she was lost. She wasn’t sure. She saw something in the ground and decided to pick it up with her talons before grabbing it with her hands, only to find out that it was a simple medium sized rock. Frowning, she shrugged and chucked it into the bush before walking towards a puddle opposite of the bush.
Sev, ever the Commando, is servicing his gun in the jungle of Kashyyyk of all places, trying not to think about having no idea what his next move is, when he hears the snapping underbrush coming towards him; he doesn’t know who it is, but the lack of Wookie noises isn’t comforting him, and he’s leaning towards the likelihood of his visitor being Droids as he quickly reassembles the blaster rifle, scopes it, and aims at the oncoming sounds.
he’s stranded here, no Republic forces remaining on planet, and uncertain of the outcome of the Battle thus far, having stayed in the woods since his being left behind by his squadmates- so he knows he’s got nothing but the fight in his bones and his wits to keep himself safe. however, luckily, he’s got plenty of both of those in his favor…
breath holds in his chest, a mausoleum of ribs and red-stained armor- he stills his finger against the trigger and squints through the visor that synchs to his sniper-scope, waiting for the indication of whether to fire or hold to explode through the bushes ahead…
sweat slides, all tickling droplets, down his hot skin under his plastoid armor, but he doesn’t waver, and doesn’t speak- his deep, snarling, gravelly voice would only serve to reveal his location, and that would not do until he’s sure of who- or what- is coming through the jungle as he waits there in the clearing.