Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Ta-Phrom-Ancient-ruins.jpg
Dappled early morning sunlight struck the jungle ruins she had called home for the last several years. Creatures had begun to stir as the sun rose, feeling the need to get out and active before the steamy heat of the day hit. Delila felt the need to do the same. By mid-afternoon it was either too stifling or raining down buckets, making it impossible to move.


Fishing instruments lay just outside the door and suntanned hand reached down to grab them. Feet clad in her extremely well-worn boots started down an equally well-worn path. They were nearly worn out. Dells had been using leather and bits of her crashed ship to repair them. Unfortunately rot was a serious issue in the environment and she hadn't quite figured out a way to preserve her fabric items. She'd have to figure it out soon though, it didn't look as if she would be leaving anytime soon.


Rushing river was nearly a mile from her ruins, not an overly long trek considering how many miles she had been logging since her crash. Silently moving through, it didn't take long to reach her destination. Sun danced across the river as her fishing tools were set out. Blue eyes darted over the river, looking for where fish would hide. With her crude hook and instruments, it was a bit more floating and hoping fish took a bite rather than truly casting a reel.


"Already hot as feth out here."



[member="Elliot Locke"]
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

It had all gone quite well.

Just a trip back home after a few months undercover.

Finally back to regular food, showers and clothing that didn't involve leather, but the moment his ship reversed from hyperspace - sending him sprawling to the ground, while he had been tinkering around on the navigational module - he knew that things were bad. Just that bad itch at the back of his knee, an old wound that constantly ached whenever instincts were trying to tell him something.

Next up... the sheer size of the planet through the viewport tipped him off that the ship had reversed way too close to the world. Usually the ship's propulsion and drive would counter the gravitational pull... but as the screech of metal sounded through his ears?

Elliot karking Locke knew he was karked.

He did his best, but he wasn't an engineer.

Only minutes later Delila would see something new on the horizon. Bright fire blazing its way through the atmosphere, a plum of dust and an explosion rocking far far in the distance.

It seemed that his best hadn't been enough.
 
[member="Elliot Locke"]


Calf-deep in the water, line cast into the river. Fish lay underneath rocky outcroppings waiting, staring at the foreign piece of line. Glint of something shiny caught her attention and took her eyes off the rushing river. It looked...metal? As if it was a ship. A ship had never landed anywhere near her, at least as long as she had been here anyways. Moving against the current, string was tied against a half-submerged log and she moved to dry off her legs and put the well-worn boots back on.


The trek was long and more than once she had to shimmy up a tree and get a better bearing of the crash site. Part of her was excited to see what it was. Dells wasn't getting too far ahead of herself. There could have been some type of space battle and it was merely wreckage. Still....wreckage was extremely useful.


Footsteps slowed as she got closer. Caution was the way to go at this point. Her blaster had become useless ages ago. She hadn't fought anyone hand-to-hand in years. Spear use had accelerated but one wasn't exactly handy. Delila stood silent at the treeline, watching. There was some movement but it was hard to tell what it was. Circling backward, the redhead would approach the movement from behind, hoping for a surprise.
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

As she started her approach from behind Castillon would notice something peculiar.

Pylons, half salvaged together from bits and pieces, standing upright and rooted in the ground. If she had an eye for that sort of stuff, she would recognize motion detectors where she saw them. They hadn't picked her up yet - maybe because the salvaging had reduced their functionality by a lot, maybe because the sensitivity was turned down to spare some of the generator's power or maybe the range of the detectors just weren't that effective.

Who knew?

Just outside the effective range Delila would notice a man. Presumably a man, because he was crouching on the ground with his back facing her, currently tinkering on some piece of equipment. His back obscured the thing, so she couldn't pick out what it was exactly, but when he hissed and and a spark lit up in the air, she would realize it was powered as well.

"Chit, piece of chit." Locke cursed softly to himself, while rubbing at his hand. Most of his clothing were torn and shredded at the seams, his shirt was just rags around his body at this point.

At least he was alive.

That had to be something.
 
[member="Elliot Locke"]


Delila would continue to observe for a moment, mainly to make sure there was nothing else at the crash site but one man. There could be one or more lurking in the thick jungle, waiting to come out and attack. Experience came into play on this one, listening for the sounds of birds and insects. If it was unusually quiet it normally meant someone was crashing through jungle, not knowing how to move with stealth.


The pillars reminded her of a radio or satellite array, as if he was trying to boost a signal to get off the verdant rock. She watched him curse and pitch a fit as something sparked and smoked just a little. Most likely trying to repair the wreck. Delila could sympathize, she had been there, done that and got the t-shirt.


The redhead slowly moved out of hiding from behind him, a bit amused at his plight.


"Cursing at whatever you're working on won't work. I should know, been talking to inanimate objects for ages now."
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

His head hurt.

Some blood seeped from his temple down his cheek and trickled into the torn textile of his shirt.

But Locke needed to get this fixed as soon as possible, hopefully before he passed out. It was somewhere there, he could feel it rising up at the back of his head. That pounding like aura that preceded the eventual collapse. It was still some time away, but if he could get the generator going? That would allow him to put up the electrical fence, which would shield him from-

Ow.

The ow was followed by a curse and the curse was followed by a voice. Feminine in persuasion and with amusement coloring her tone... no threat? It did not seem to be a threat.

"Oh yeah?" Locke mumbled as he kept studying the wiring, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. "They got anything amusing to say?"

Finally then, Elliot gave up for now.

Didn't seem to be much more to do about it. He turned around and the first thing he noticed was the grime, the dust and the wear and tear. Then the clothes, then the red peaking out. Tired, exhausted? Lines. Amusing curl at the edge of her mouth, still some fight left in her even if she was being eroded by the day. But the eyes told him all Elliot needed to know.

Not an enemy.

Not yet anyway.

"Friendly?"
 
[member="Elliot Locke"]


"Just that your efforts seem futile given the head wound. Basic survival.....you collapse and die all the work you've been doing is for naught."


Suntanned hand gestured to the wound on his head as it dripped onto his clothing. He seemed a bit frustrated and uneasy, expected for anyone in his position. Delila did her best to take him in, doing her best to guess friend or foe. He seemed to be doing the same. A good sign in her opinion.


"Friendly?Well, several would disagree to that. Am I going to kill you? Head wound will probably do that first."


She remained at a distance,eyes never stopping on one thing. There was a concern about an ambush or some type of trap. No one knew she was here but it didn't mean she couldn't be killed or kidnapped by some crazed lunatic.


"Need help?"
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

"True." Locke agreed with a snort, before eyeing the clearing she had come from. Where there others there? Waiting to see if he was a weakness that could be eliminated, so they could strip his ship from parts?

He didn't know.

Hell, at this point Elliot didn't even know what planet he was on - too focused on trying to not get his ship crashed to really pay attention to the coordinates the navcomputer was projecting. But here was the thing - she was right, even if the SIS agent wasn't happy with it. This thing wasn't gonna work, unless he managed to survive and enjoy the protection he was setting up.

Didn't mean he would just let it lay there though, the snark was born to him.

"​Falling unconscious and then getting eaten by hostile wildlife, because I didn't set up a perimeter won't be fun either though."

The blood was sticky on his fingers as he touched the fringes of the wound. Didn't seem to be a very big one, but enough that his vision was a bit blurry. The point here was that alone? He wouldn't make it out.

That seemed as obvious as anything.

Then she asked if he needed help. Elly looked at her, smirk tugging, before he looked around the wreckage, the blood on his shirt and the general ragged nature of the jungle around them. This one seemed to have survived here for quite some time already, so the answer was obvious to him.

"A hand or two might be helpful... yeah, I might even say thank you if I live through it."
 
[member="Elliot Locke"]


Corners of her mouth twitched in amusement at the words 'hostile wildlife'. Frankly in her opinion if something was out to kill one then his little perimeter fence wasn't going to stop them. Especially if said person collapsed from injuries beforehand. Laying unconscious on the ground wasn't much for protection.


"I might get a thank you eh? Well that alone is more than enough motivation."


Sarcasm laced her words, falling back into old habits quickly. Amazing how she did that despite talking to objects that didn't speak back. Must be in her genetic structure.


"So whats first on the list? The perimeter to 'protect' you from wildlife, correct?"
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

Locke eyed her up for a moment.

Sarcasm was good, a sense of humor was the difference between death by strangulation and survival once you get pitched together in tight company. This wasn't any different than that, he knew that even through the blurry eyes and the blurry mind. But she was right with one thing.

He wasn't gonna hold out for very long this way.

"Depends, do you have any field med experience?" The SIS agent asked, before gesturing to the side. A bit farther to his left, amidst some half disassembled equipment was a small crate. It had the stereotypical red cross painted over it, signifying it as a medical supply crate.

"While I am fixing this up, you could take a look at my head. Yeah?"
 
[member="Elliot Locke"]



"I know a thing or two."


One final glance at the man before heading towards the medical crate. Prying open the top revealed most basic supplies she could still easily recognize most of the items inside. Hyposprays, bandages, bone stabilizer, sonic scalpel, the works. This one even had a few bacta patches inside.


She dug around to find the right hyposprays for the headwound, then grabbed enough items to clean and bandage his head with. Of course she would be using the bacta patch, any longer than a few hours on the planet and it was ripe for infection.


Used to not having a companion to speak to, Delila went about setting up her little triage area without a word. She was a bit concerned about his head wound and if he got overly sleepy. There wasn't much she could do if the hyposprays didn't work.


"The doctor is in.....when you're ready anyways."
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

Locke grunted in thanks as she walked off to check out the medic crate.

His attention returned to the wiring and trying to figure out where the faulty line was. After a few moments of simply staring at the contraption he realized that he hadn't moved a muscle. Which was strange because in his head Locke had already fixed the entire damn thing and the protective field was already giving off its aura of electric justice, but not... here.

Why was that?

He noticed his hand was a little bit shaky too. The truth was that Elliot didn't want to admit that right now he was completely useless, even with the blood seeping and making his vision blurry, he wanted to be useful.

But there didn't seem anything to be done about it.

Delila's voice rocked him back to attention - before he could do something stupid, like trying to fix the wiring with his bare hands. He looked up and saw the various sprays and patches already at attention.

"Yeah, let's get this over with." Then the SIS agent pushed himself off the ground and walked over to her, settling himself down on one of the other crates. This way she would have coverage without having to crouch all over the ground. Probably a little bit easier for her. It wasn't because the moment he pushed himself up his entire vision got flashing lights.

Only his momentum had really carried him over to her.
 
[member="Elliot Locke"]


Critical brow arched at his barely-making-it-to-her walk/crawl occurred. Delila wouldn't chide him anymore for not taking her advice, the splitting headache was probably more than enough punishment. Taking in the wound, she first grabbed some saline to clean the area well. Hair and matted blood were getting in her way.


"Turn your head and cough for me."


Crude humor would hopefully distract him from whatever she was doing. Gauze pad wiped away blood and more sterile water washed across his skin. She was close to him, ignoring his personal space to do her work. Quiet fell between them once more, engrossed in her work. Delila kept forgetting to talk.She had lost the art of small talk, although she was never good at it to begin with.


Leaning over, she picked up a few sprays, brows knitting in concentration. It was a rather large and deep gash. The medical kit had the materials for stitches. Bacta patch should handle it though....but the jungle....Debate raged in her head.


"Going to have a nice scar for all the girls to fawn over by the time I'm done."


Gentle pressure applied to the wound with a sterile piece of bandage, the free hand digging through her supplies.
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

Locke snorted.

"I know you think you are all that, surviving out here, but my germs kill people."

He turned his head slightly anyway, mostly to give her a better view on the wound. At this point instincts simply took over - and instincts told him to do what the doc said to do, if he wanted to get out of here alive. Number one thing they drill in your head when you are being steamrolled into the SIS. Always follow the doc's guidelines if you didn't want to end up a drooling mess.

Pain laced his optics once she started the work.

At first it wasn't much, just wiping away the dirt and grime, followed by disinfecting the area, but that wasn't where it ended. If there was one thing that Locke absolutely hated it was the feeling of those hypo shet sprayed on his skin slash wound.

When she leaned in to take a closer look... well... Elliot was a lot of things and one of them was slightly delirious right now. Only the SIS training kept him really going at this point. But. He was also a man and he noticed things. Behind the dirt, the mud, behind the smell and all the other things numbered up from surviving in this shetstain of a planet... Castillon looked alright.

"I am sure my collection will welcome it as family." A smirk followed suit. "You like scars, Dahlia?"

It was a shade of red - not this shade of red, but somehow Rosso Corsa didn't have the same taste to it.
 
"Oh yeah, scars really get my motor running.What girl doesn't love a scarred man?"


In truth it didn't matter much her to begin with. The bloody man in front of her wasn't terrible on the eyes. If she had to guess he was either a smuggler, criminal of some sort, or a soldier. Something about the way he held himself. He was terribly calm considering the situation. That didn't happen with an everyday citizen stranded out in the middle of a jungle.


"Dahlia huh? I figured more of a posionous flower personally. Well,either way, doesn't matter does it Scars?"
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

Smirk turned wider at the lip given.

"I know I look like magical, but I can't read ya history like that." He retorted briefly. "So, it's gonna be Dahlia, 'til I get to know you a little bit better."

It was already growing on him though - the name. Might not have been the perfect shade to describe her, but it had a nice ring to it and it tugged a smile at the edge of her mouth. A pretty mouth, but he wasn't sure if that thought entered his mind because of mindless delirium or genuine attraction.

Probably something to revisit at a latter point.

"Sure, it matters." He grimaced slightly as she started to apply the bacta patch to the wound. It immediately burned at the surface, but that was good.

Meant that the bacteria and infections were being karked away.

"Means I will have to get more scars, if that's your wheelhouse."
 
[member="Elliot Locke"]


"Dahlia until you find out the truth? I can deal with that."


She was finishing up with the bandage and moved on to injecting the hyposprays. Two of them to be exact. Delila didn't bother to 'warn' him about making the injections into his arm. She preferred not to be warned personally, warning only made one anticipate the needle.


"More scars? Might want to slow down for just a couple of days. Friendly advice."


Hyposprays down, Delila surveyed her patient. Still looked rough and not in a roguishly handsome way. Perhaps if he was a little less pallid and bloody.


"Sit down for a few minutes. I've lived here for....awhile....I'm still alive. Perimeter isn't going to make much of a difference until nightfall. I got somewhere you can stay if needed."
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

It stung like a mutated Sithspawn hornet.

Not... that he had any real-life experience with that and if he had it probably would have been classified regardless. A curse was barely suppressed, before the second one came in and fire started burning through his veins. Locke always hated these things. But she was right about one thing though - getting forewarning only made the entire experience worse. You started anticipating, started imagining how bad it was going to be and usually your imagination was way more lively than the actual thing itself. Such is the mind sometimes.

"I will take it under consideration, doc." Not that Locke saw her as a doctor. Hands too rough, eye too focused on the kill, lines on the face spoke of war. No, this was a soldier and that was clear to him.

But Elliot's entire job description was figuring out people and their quirks.

After she told him to sit down, he started pushing himself up again - vision blurry, unsteady legs - Elly immediately settled himself down again.

"Right call." He acknowledged with a frown. "You got a running water and power there?"

Because Locke did.

Well... he would, once he got all this crap to work again. But in the meantime somehow the man doubted he was in any state to travel right now, it would take him a few hours or maybe even days, before he was able to track through the jungle.
 
[member="Elliot Locke"]


"Running water?Power? This isn't a vacation resort. Running water from the river is about as good as its going get."


Delila barely had any food, let alone running water or any type of power. She was amused at his assessment though, where would she get such a thing for this? Well, maybe if she was a self-exiled hermit there might have been power and various other luxuries.


"I suppose your wrecked ship does? If you don't get a perimeter why not just lock yourself inside? Looks like the cargo bay or maybe a cabin or two would be able to protect you. I can stay outside if you're that worried about creatures roaming the area."
 
tinker tailor soldier spy
[member="Delila Castillon"]

"It was a joke."

He gently clarified. Mostly because Locke knew what she had gone through, he went through it every time he went on an extended mission. When it was necessary to remove his sense of self and become someone else, something else. The days and weeks after a mission like that was over were surreal in a lot of ways, sometimes he barely got out of the house.

Especially when Locke needed to slip on the roles of murderers. It never felt right to talk and interact with people after that, at least not for the first few days of being back.

"Ship got a reservoir for a few days, yeah, so if you need a shower? That can be arranged." The power was a different story entirely. He had to unhook the safety coupling to establish the front line with the motion detection.

But the electric fence was a different story.

If only Locke could get the deflector shield up and have it projected across a larger area. That would solve that issue rather nicely.
 

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