- 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑
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Role: Sniper | Powers: Electrical manipulation & truth detection | Location: Hallway > Bedroom door | Tags: Elora [Mentions: Maxwell, Milo, Edie Ven]
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“Hardly anything is as simple as it seems, isn’t it?” Her gaze drifted to trace the curves of the familiar walls, eyes sweeping the hall in a once-over, out of habit than anything else. A dry smile tugged at the corners of her lips as her attention returned to her friend, “I didn’t expect to be quizzed on the situation, already. Was the morning at base as quiet as it seemed?” Brows lifted a touch teasingly, then lowered as she considered, faint smile fading, “I admit, the run-down was dry. The basics.”
Where to begin? She could paint a picture, detailing the scuffle and its aftermath. From how crimson red mingled with silver marred the pavement to the cries of the injured scattering from the epicentre of the chaos. Details, all those little nuances, the little complexities that made such a difference. It was what defined the boundaries, spurring the outrage between a mere casualty and a child casualty. She pressed her lips together as she dismissed the thought - no, she'd leave that one to the media.
“Think of it, less as a capture attempt and more a scuffle.” A small pause to collect her thoughts. Tempting as it was to spill, some things were best left spoken in the security of her bedroom. Others were best left unsaid. “The general was present on the surface as support… it complicated matters to say the least. Things just escalated from there. Injuries for one.” A sifting of the surface simplicity with a shift in perspective. There was no denying it’d started off as a capture attempt, but it ended being a little more - a clash between leaders of opposing movements, each with agendas of their own, and the first flash of activity from the rebellion in awhile.
The mention of her cheek served as a reminder of that window cleaner; another story in its entirety and not something she cared to get into here, perhaps in her bedroom. “It’ll be fine. Nothing some ice won’t fix,” she reassured, fingers reaching up to trace the surface of the bruise. If she'd ever met up with that rebel again... She tried for a reassuring smile. “Just a little thank-you over some spilled lemonade.” A glance down the hall confirmed they were close and she nodded once towards the door of their demolitions expert, a few steps ahead. “We’ll talk more, later. See if he’s in first?”
- 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐒
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Role: Gatherer | Negation: Off | Location: Catacombs > Rebel entrance | Tags: Willow [Mentions: None.]
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Fingers knotted into the back of his hair as he met those jade eyes simmering as if embers alight with flames. Back to square one again. His concentration was waning, the building pressure at the back of his skull tugging his focus from her words. How long had they been out? He blinked, an attempt to clear that mental fog.
Rockets used hydrogen fuel combined with oxygen to propel itself forward, by-product being water. A remnant of some flight theory from past years… Funny how such an odd lecture could pop in his mind as he watched the woman in-front of him. An attempt at conversation plus Willow equaled this, along with a long walk back to base.
Responding with equal heat and defensiveness was all too easy, all at the tip of his tongue, that urge to match fire with fire and passion with passion. Her attempt to mimic his voice chased that thought away as quickly as it came, her voice lowering from its usual to match his. He snorted, lips lifting involuntarily in a faint smile as he shook his head. The last part of her poisonous words snagged at him, something along the lines of ‘endangering the rebellion’. Barbed as the comment was, it stood out from the rest. Underneath those provocative words, it was something he understood. Was that it— someone back home that she was worried about?
“Hey, hey. Easy there, kitten.” He released a slow, steady breath, holding up a hand. “I hear you. Listen, I know the taskforce activity is concerning, threatening- take your pick.” He let a small pause follow, gaze slipping from hers to take in their surroundings, then settling on a point just ahead.
“She’s not one of them. Probably works somewhere in the agricultural sector- a farmer likely. You may have seen her around. She owns that stall at the edge of the market, which sells berries and all the like?” A glance towards her as he guided them along, setting a steady pace. “If we play our cards right, it’ll work out. Just… trust me on this one.”
The point at the distance neared, the familiar structure of home closing-in. It had never looked more inviting. He breathed a soft sigh as he returned his attention to the firecracker next to him, “Come. Let’s go home.”
He hoped she wouldn’t fight him on this one.
Calloused hands reached for the door, tugging it open. The absence of guards at the door jumped out at him, twisting a knot in his stomach. Fingers tightened against the frame of the door as the pressure at the back of his head spiked; the stirrings of a wild creature poking its nose through that barrier he’d built up. Steady there. A breath-in to redirect his focus. Shift change? That had to be it.
