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
Having also been partial to checking the network, she's also aware that there is a thief in the jungle that escaped after being shot in the leg. But said thief was also described to be female, and this is...
Well, definitely not a woman.
Even so, she doesn't recognize her quarry that found himself
so rudelystrung up.Without a word, she grabs the rope slung over the tree and looks up at the man she's caught, but she doesn't make to let him down just yet.
"Who are you?" she asks, first and foremost.
no subject
But he is as good as dead if that psychotic bitch from the beach finds him after he’s spent however long hanging upside down with a half-healed bullet hole in his leg.
He considers lying for a long moment, wheels struggling to turn while he swings there in the rain.
The rope creaks.
“Flint,” he croaks.
no subject
"All right, Flint. Going to let you down slowly." She has enough of a mind not to just drop him like they do in the movies. Don't want to snap his neck or anything.
Just before he can fully descend to the ground, she pauses when she notices that gunshot wound in his leg.
She squints, stopping to hold onto the rope. "Where did you get that injury?"
no subject
So close.
He holds his breath between strained grunts -- whites wide in his eyes where his head is tucked ahead of his shoulders in the mud. Garbled text stands out familiar on the inseam of his left forearm, and there are old scars banded around his wrists. He won’t look at her.
He doesn’t answer, either, using the break in ligature assault to breathe deeper.
no subject
Against her better judgment, she eases him back to the ground. That way he's not dangling, but still caught in the snare. One cagey move and he can just as easily be flung back into the air thanks to Rey's bulldozer strength.
She sighs. "Better, now?"
no subject
“Lady with a metal face shot me,” he says.
This time when he turns his head enough to look at her, there’s a harder edge to his stare -- sizing her up, distrust just short of hostility. He’s too worn down for much more than that, where he’s at now.
“How long have I been here?”
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.