She Always Hated The Idea Of Leaving Someone Behind, Even If They Were A Clone Trooper. It Wasnt Strategic,

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.

“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.

i know you were way too bright for me

i'm hopeless, broken

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.

what happened to the soul that you used to be?

i'm searching for something that I can't reach

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.