How Long Has It Been Since Dana Came To This World, And To This Small And Peaceful Town Abundant With

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​

“...”

“I--what--HOW???”

“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.

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.

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.

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