Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private If it takes all night

The large red stag snorted its displeasure, steam rising from its damp red coat and spilling from its nostrils like the smoke of some great dragon. Declan's lip curled back in a snarl displaying wicked fangs at his prey. The stag snorted again and shifted its feet nervously looking for a way to escape but there was none, Declan had pursued the beast for miles and finally been able to corner it here with its back pressed against a rock wall. The stag knew there was no hope for reprieve, no chance for salvation and so it made the only choice it could, lowing its enormous head it charged with its great towering tines hoping to impale the great white wolf that blocked its path.

Declan ducked under the charging beasts horns the best he could which was not well at all as his hind quarter was wrent bloody on the left side and massive hooves came crashing down on his shoulders and as painful as that all was it mattered little and less because he had managed to snare the deer's thick neck in his powerful jaws, after some moments of struggle it was over and Declan began the long walk back to his camp with a limp and with dinner.

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The fire crackled near the water's edge and the smell of garlic and honey covered venison filled the night air mingling with the freshwater smell of the lake. He gave the deer a turn on its spit and went back to make sure everything had been set up properly. A large blanket lay out closer to the water and near the fire but not so near as to worry about getting smoke in your face. He had set up a small table and two chairs, there was wine and mead as well, he wanted tonight to go well.

He'd left a note with a map to this spot for Firenne. They had helped Aelin reunite with her sister and had somehow ended up back on Islimore a place he had never thought to be again. He had asked Firenne to meet him here tonight because he had come to a decision, in a few days time he would be leaving the sanctuary of this place and this new ramshackle pack to head north and go home. To see his family. His brothers and his parents people he hadn't seen in two decades.

He owed Fi an explanation. He owed her more than to just leave her here for who knows how long without him. She would understand, he knew she would, or he hoped she would. They hadn't known each other long but he thought he saw something in that woman, there was a joy he felt around her that he could not truly explain and so he would tell her he was leaving, he would tell her she didn't have to wait for him but as long as he was able he would come back to her and he hoped that would be enough.

He tended the fire waiting for her. He was shirtless and shoeless, dark purple and green bruises covered his back near his shoulders and his left side under his slacks was covered in bandages but he hardly felt the hurt anymore even if the limp suggested other wise. He was too nervous to remember his hurts.

Firenne Van-Derveld Firenne Van-Derveld
 

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Declan Durinson Declan Durinson
Muse Notes: Halestorm "Break In (feat. Amy Lee)"
Outfit: Dress | Journal
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The soft-spun fabric of her dress pooled around her as she sat amidst the trees, the large leather-bound journal opened to a sketch that had only just begun. Herr hand flicked out over the page, adding charcoal lines that were soon smudged into the whole as the image slowly took shape. She lost herself to the pursuit for the better part of the day, the image in her mind coming to life on the parchment beneath her pencils.

It was the slow loss of light in the small clearing that eventually roused her senses, drawing her gaze to the chrono cast aside atop her small woven satchel. Eyes growing wide, Firenne realized she was going to be late if she didn't get going. She hastily grabbed up her things and bundled them away, the satchel slung over her shoulder as she began to run.

That in and of itself was a singular pleasure and she savored it, slipping into her lupine form and racing carefree through the trees and across the clearings. Her wolf basked in the late afternoon sun, the run turning into one of those singular moments she knew she'd remember for the sheer unfettered pleasure of it. She paused briefly, returning to her human form to consult the map Declan had left for her. Firenne was pleased to see that she was on the right path, and resumed her trek, taking the last of it back in her lupine form.

The ebon fur of her form gleamed in the late afternoon light as it faded, and she skidded to a somewhat graceless halt, golden eyes blazing with a little more crimson that usual. Something...was different, and even her Force-sense couldn't pinpoint it. Firenne shoved the thought aside in favor of shifting back into her human form, smiling broadly, and breathless from the exertion as she dropped her satchel near the table, admiring the lengths Declan had gone to before turning to greet him.

The lupine blinked, and immediately reached out to touch the dark mottling of fresh bruises killing the words on her lips. "I see the venison didn't take kindly to becoming dinner...may I?" she asked, hesitating until he offered his consent before she reached out with the Force to heal what she could.​

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He winced but he did not pull away from her touch, after tonight he did not know when he would feel it again so he would savor every second of it, pain or not.

"I see the venison didn't take kindly to becoming dinner...may I?" she asked.

“They never do.” He joked with a smile not truly answering the question she asked. He knew what she was asking, that she was being kind and offering to ease his pain with her…Force or whatever it was. He thought of the scar on his chest, the place over his heart that had been sliced open in that smoke filled tent and he thought of that woods witch who bled him and then healed him.

The truth was that he did not trust this “Force” it was not something he had been overly familiar with and it unnerved him but he did not want to say something and have her think that it was her he did not have faith in. He had to come up with the right way to differ.

The marks are proof of the hunt. Signs of valor. Eh, sounds too much like Brynjar, even if it was true.

My love, I won these scars for you, may all the world look upon them and know of my devotion to you. That was what Rænör would tell dear Cérmæ but Declan was no god.

“Maybe later.” He told her with a soft smile.

“Sit.” He pulled a chair out for her and limped over to the fire and sliced off some of the venison, setting a plate down in front of her and one in the spot next to her, even sitting across the table seemed like too much space at the moment. He poured her a glass of the red wine and a glass of mead for himself before taking his seat.

“How do you like this place…Islimore I mean…The Wolf Wood?” He asked her instead of just telling her.

Firenne Van-Derveld Firenne Van-Derveld
 

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