[CLOSED; work in process]
Characters; Mello & Sasarai
Setting/Location; Near the border of New Utopia, in Valora
Date & Time; About two months ago.
Warnings; There might be violence and strong language?
Briefing; Desperate situations call desperate measures and unlikely (hesitant) alliances.
The cloak served poorly as a uniform in actual battle situation, Sasarai had concluded long before the first clashing with Ex Favila's brigade had ended. It got heavy with rain, got in the way, and provided only meager protection against injuries. The only reason he was still wearing it was because the hood effectively blocked the rain from clouding his vision. At the moment he was in process of tearing the hem of it into makeshift bandages, his hand slippery on the wet handle of his knife and shaking just slightly of both lack of energy and after shock of adrenalin wearing thin within his veins.
The mission had gone from troublesome to nightmarish in just mere seconds when instead of few patrols of Valora's soldiers they had found an empty prison and a group of equally confused Ex Favila's soldiers. Sasarai wasn't quite sure what had started the fight, he remembered hearing gun shots, and in the next moment chaos had already rained blood and pain over them all. Stuttering commands, unfocused spells, narrow corridors quickly painted with sprays of blood and panicked shouts of soldiers, both friendly and not. Someone had pulled him along when the retreat command came, yanked his arm until his shoulder felt sore and out of place. That someone had been cut down by a soldier in a jumpsuit, goggles glaring at him behind a smoking gun. The spell words had felt clumsy and broken when slipping from his tongue, rolling out imperfect but generous enough to take an effect. He remembered clawing a wall with bloodied fingers, crying out when a bullet snipped at his arm and expecting the better aimed one to reach more lethal spot as the ground shook and earth parted at the force of his spell. To his surprise, what had happened was not a gunshot to end his existence, but something completely else.
Something that now occupied the same flimsy cover they had found between storage buildings at the out rims of the compound, something in Ex Favila's colors, completed with sharp eyes, terrible burn marks on his face and a messy blond hair. Sasarai knew neither his name, not that it mattered either, nor his rank or anything about him, except that he seemed to be in disfavor of the idea of fighting with a lonely Verity soldier when they were surrounded with troops of well rested and battle-ready Valoran army.
Sasarai studied the other soldier quietly while yanking tight the bandages around his bicep, breathing out a small grunt at the sting of parted flesh being pushed back together. It was not perfect, but would stop the bleeding and allow him to use the arm for now. The rest of the 'bandages' he shoved into the small bag he carried on his belt, maybe they'd serve some purpose later on. There was no trust wasted between them, just a wordless agreement of desperate times calling for desperate measures.
"It's damp enough to be feasible if I lift a mist. We can use it as a cover to find a better hideout," he said quietly as he leaned forward, back against a cement wall, and glanced around the corner to the street that connected the warehouses. He brushed back the hood of his cloak, just slightly to provide himself a clearer view on the surroundings, his fingers rubbed damply over a streak of blood on his pale cheek, smearing it over a high arch of a cheekbone.
Setting/Location; Near the border of New Utopia, in Valora
Date & Time; About two months ago.
Warnings; There might be violence and strong language?
Briefing; Desperate situations call desperate measures and unlikely (hesitant) alliances.
The cloak served poorly as a uniform in actual battle situation, Sasarai had concluded long before the first clashing with Ex Favila's brigade had ended. It got heavy with rain, got in the way, and provided only meager protection against injuries. The only reason he was still wearing it was because the hood effectively blocked the rain from clouding his vision. At the moment he was in process of tearing the hem of it into makeshift bandages, his hand slippery on the wet handle of his knife and shaking just slightly of both lack of energy and after shock of adrenalin wearing thin within his veins.
The mission had gone from troublesome to nightmarish in just mere seconds when instead of few patrols of Valora's soldiers they had found an empty prison and a group of equally confused Ex Favila's soldiers. Sasarai wasn't quite sure what had started the fight, he remembered hearing gun shots, and in the next moment chaos had already rained blood and pain over them all. Stuttering commands, unfocused spells, narrow corridors quickly painted with sprays of blood and panicked shouts of soldiers, both friendly and not. Someone had pulled him along when the retreat command came, yanked his arm until his shoulder felt sore and out of place. That someone had been cut down by a soldier in a jumpsuit, goggles glaring at him behind a smoking gun. The spell words had felt clumsy and broken when slipping from his tongue, rolling out imperfect but generous enough to take an effect. He remembered clawing a wall with bloodied fingers, crying out when a bullet snipped at his arm and expecting the better aimed one to reach more lethal spot as the ground shook and earth parted at the force of his spell. To his surprise, what had happened was not a gunshot to end his existence, but something completely else.
Something that now occupied the same flimsy cover they had found between storage buildings at the out rims of the compound, something in Ex Favila's colors, completed with sharp eyes, terrible burn marks on his face and a messy blond hair. Sasarai knew neither his name, not that it mattered either, nor his rank or anything about him, except that he seemed to be in disfavor of the idea of fighting with a lonely Verity soldier when they were surrounded with troops of well rested and battle-ready Valoran army.
Sasarai studied the other soldier quietly while yanking tight the bandages around his bicep, breathing out a small grunt at the sting of parted flesh being pushed back together. It was not perfect, but would stop the bleeding and allow him to use the arm for now. The rest of the 'bandages' he shoved into the small bag he carried on his belt, maybe they'd serve some purpose later on. There was no trust wasted between them, just a wordless agreement of desperate times calling for desperate measures.
"It's damp enough to be feasible if I lift a mist. We can use it as a cover to find a better hideout," he said quietly as he leaned forward, back against a cement wall, and glanced around the corner to the street that connected the warehouses. He brushed back the hood of his cloak, just slightly to provide himself a clearer view on the surroundings, his fingers rubbed damply over a streak of blood on his pale cheek, smearing it over a high arch of a cheekbone.