Theobsidianmagpie - The Obsidian Magpie

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.

Almost Kings is an 18+ BBC Sherlock canon-divergent RP website celebrating our grand opening. We are extremely original character and LGBTQ+ friendly without a word count. Come hang out with us and see what we’re about!

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“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.

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.

Blue Moon

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