Once Shes Up And Centered, Lucie With The Bag In Mouth, Slowly Creeps Up To The Large Man, Curious. She

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​

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.

“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.

“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.

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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?

i know you were way too bright for me

i'm hopeless, broken