Flint Deckard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spittle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2016-01-24 01:58 am
spittle) wrote in ataraxionlogs2016-01-24 01:58 am
Entry tags:
[closed]
CHARACTERS: Flint Deckard and Rey (additional threads pending)
LOCATION: Jungle
WARNINGS: Injury
SUMMARY: Rey finds a probably definitely innocent man snared in one of her traps.
NOTES: Backdated roughly to coincide with the timing of Etrepa Seven’s network post.
He’s human again when he jolts awake, water in his nose, ice in his veins. The jungle isn’t as loud, and the rain just smells like rain.
He’s also hanging upside down, knuckles not-quite dragging in the leaf litter over his head.
Muddy runoff runs down (up) his bare middle and around his neck, dripping quick off the scruff of his scalp. His pants are streaked dark with blood around the knee of his caught leg. There’s blood on his chest, blood on his feet, blood in his beard. He’s filthy all around, hide streaked light where the rain’s had time to rinse the mud and blood and grit away.
The sound he makes when he tries to twist to reach the rope around his ankle is muffled cruddy in his throat -- anguish garbled behind his teeth. He lets off immediately, long arms loose, eyes dizzy with pain.
Hard to say how long he’s been here, but it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere fast.
LOCATION: Jungle
WARNINGS: Injury
SUMMARY: Rey finds a probably definitely innocent man snared in one of her traps.
NOTES: Backdated roughly to coincide with the timing of Etrepa Seven’s network post.
He’s human again when he jolts awake, water in his nose, ice in his veins. The jungle isn’t as loud, and the rain just smells like rain.
He’s also hanging upside down, knuckles not-quite dragging in the leaf litter over his head.
Muddy runoff runs down (up) his bare middle and around his neck, dripping quick off the scruff of his scalp. His pants are streaked dark with blood around the knee of his caught leg. There’s blood on his chest, blood on his feet, blood in his beard. He’s filthy all around, hide streaked light where the rain’s had time to rinse the mud and blood and grit away.
The sound he makes when he tries to twist to reach the rope around his ankle is muffled cruddy in his throat -- anguish garbled behind his teeth. He lets off immediately, long arms loose, eyes dizzy with pain.
Hard to say how long he’s been here, but it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere fast.
no subject
Metal face or not, she doubts that someone would go around shooting a guy without her reasons. It doesn't always have to be a good one, though. On the other hand, expecting him to tell the truth may be asking for a bit much. Oh well. She tries.
After a moment of thoughtful silence, Rey eventually responds: "Don't know. A few hours, perhaps. Just been doing rounds, checking on the traps."
She managed to catch something more than just a small animal this time. Unfortunately, it's not the game she's been looking for.
no subject
Technically he’s telling the truth.
Even if resentment is creeping in, cracked and dry, while he lies there and eyeballs her from the mud. A few hours is a lot of lost time when you’re being hunted by a deranged cyborg.
no subject
She sighs, taking out a knife and cutting the rope that she's holding, freeing Flint from the trap.
"If she's still coming after you, and it'd seem that someone like that would be, you should keep moving."
Granted, with a shot leg he probably won't get very far, but Rey isn't making that her problem.