mmmisfortune

[mmmisfortune]

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[mmmisfortune]

     This is the face of victory upon impact. That is of course, until      a hail storm of rocks suddenly gets hurtled in her direction. No      more smug grin-- just shrieking and hiding back in the bush.

He turns around, alright, on the account of being hit. Strangling her was always the forefront thought that he experienced, but he doesn’t act on that.

No, no. Instead he force hurls a bunch of muddy, standard sized rocks at her.

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     Once she’s done fighting the bush for a good three minutes      she finds the mushiest mound of mud and just-- WHAP! At       the back of his head.

Force pushes her into a nearby bush and keeps walking. 

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     “Stop hitting me with those meat tenderizers or I’m shoving      my fingers in your nose again.”

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What you risk reveals what you value.

Jeanette Winterson (via wordsnquotes)

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     He doesn’t swipe at her, makes no move to indicate an      active attempt to make a try for her life-- surprising given      he was a fountain of stamina and rage just a few short       hours ago. The fact that it took an entire two story house      to get him even remotely injured, was, well-- it was a very      obvious indicator this bounty was way over her head. He’s      lying there, and she takes a moment to study him, scrutinize      every dip and curve of his features, grabbing his jaw and       moving it as she saw fit before gently letting him go. He was      injured enough as it was, to mishandle him meant less credits,      and she was as cheap as she was fickle. She stands, slowly,      pain registering in her side as muscles tighten around wooden      shards lodging into her abdomen, nothing life threatening, but      an obstacle that will prove to only become a greater hindrance      if not removed-- So, she pulls, quick and precise, seething like      a wounded animal before the faint sound of wet skin tearing      just slightly indicates the stakes are dislodged. The Togruta’s       tired, winded from a simple action, but does little to give herself      the break she needs, opting to simply wrap her wounds with torn      fabric from her gloves, and move on. Tiali wasn’t going to let his      weight deny her spoils, no, she’d figure this out.

     It takes a few minutes, trekking through the rubble until meeting      land, snorting flecks of red in the form of droplets from her nose      as she tries to ignore the gravity of her injuries, and how strongly      they bore down upon her. Her ship is a half mile in, and when she       finally steps foot into ship, she grabs a cable she deems more than      sturdy enough to hold his weight, and the attachments needed to      put on the heels of her boots to give the force needed to pull his      body free from the rubble. She’s by his side, once more, securing      his torso and waist, making haste as the sound of the foundation      disintegrates, along with her time. The cable coils around her arm,      teeth bared as she activates the jets on her heels and pulls, even      then, he proves difficult to deal with. Muscles in her biceps burn,      his body inching slowly from the fallen pillars and ghosting across      the surface of the pile now withering away. It takes well over ten      minutes, but finally he’s free, and the resistance is easier to deal      with as she drags his body across the landscape, getting more than      a workout than she had wanted in the process. Once he’s onboard      the ship, the reinforced durasteel cuffs slap around his wrists, and      ankles, connected by a short chain to ensure he wouldn’t be getting      free easily, nor anytime soon. He’s propped up in a chair in the back,      strapped in nice and tight. From there, it’s smooth sailing she thinks,      and she’s off-- leaving the atmosphere.

     Finally.

A missing horn. Bruises. Some dried blood on his face. And that was only what was visible of him. It’s quite a sight, what was once standing was now in piles scattered along the plot that it formerly occupied only in a much more livable condition.

He too, wakes, but it’s only because he can hear something. Something that’s close to him.

Both eyes struggle to open, and find themselves blinded by colors and too much light. Shapes and outlines mesh together, holding no true recognizable qualities that differentiated one thing from the next.

Until he saw a violet blur. That’s the only thing he could make out, with the dazed vision that he so strongly struggled to see through in this current state before he rested his eyes. Previously buried beneath the piles and piles of rubble, only after he’s used a good portion of his strength to unearth at least a part of him, it’s she who comes to help him. But not for his wellbeing. No. Of course not. She’s hunting him.

She’s weak. She’s weak, but he’s weak, too. There’s a stirring of consciousness as a low groan leaves his lips. There’s no struggle, no fight, not even when he grasps the sensation of something cold pressing against his neck. One eye opens briefly, but just as it opened, does it shut, and he’s slipping back beneath the surface, sinking to the depths, the desire to rest being the anchor shackled to his ankle.

The other eye opens this time, but it too, closes just like the first. His head is resting against a pile of rubble, not even gathering enough strength within him to be able to lift it up. His hand is shaky as it raises, the digits fighting to not naturally curl inward just as the arm begins to sink back down under the influence of gravity. It was an attempt to use the Force, but it failed, and even if he had the ability to do so, it’d require his mentality to not be within the murky depths.

Instead it merely looked like he was trying to reach for her and ultimately failed.

Rest. Rest is much easier at a time like this. After how a whole building came down upon you, respite just way too appealing.

The bounty was hers for the taking. But she’d have to work for it, or at least get creative in her solutions.

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She's quite...hippy. Note that this is in no way a complaint.

     Thank you. I’m glad she’s piqued interest for you then.     Always a plus I suppose!

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     I’d like to try and do more interactions so      maybe like this for a starter??

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Snorts right in her face.

     STICKS HER FINGERS IN HIS STUPID NOSE.

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Leans in and growls her ear. Proceeds to glance over her shoulder at her expression, just for the sake of seeing if she'll play along and playfully growl back.

     She’ll do you one better and snap her teeth, baring double      canines at the Nightbrother before rumbling in an offset      growl. She’s willing to play– for now.

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    @savagecpress​     continued from (x)

     Black-- it bathes the vision of the bounty hunter until she      stirs from the sound of debris falling in disarray around her.       Initially, upon her waking, the only thing she registers is pain      that burns hot in the groves of her shoulder blades. She tries      to breath, only to breathe and choke on an amalgamation of      dust and wood particles, taking a moment to recover before      trying to move under what feels like a ton’s worth of home that      rests on her shoulder blade. Eyes flutter open, squinting, trying      to make out her location before registering she’s in the same       place she stood, only, a few feet below it. She remembers the       roar of a building coming down, and the final glance both she,      and her bounty shared before both were consumed in a violent      sea of destruction on behalf of the house that has them buried      deep. It’s when she has difficulty moving, that suddenly, her       phobia registers, and she finds her blood go ice cold. She’s       moving frantically, forcing her back and arms to push at weight      triple that of her own, pulsing, growling, acting like a pinned       beast until finally the wood that’s shifted and rolled off her gives      reprieve. Hands claw atop the hill, pulling her form over top to      take a moment to regain her bearings. There’s wood shards       in her side, but she’s quick to ignore it for the sake of moving      on, standing wearily to scan, in search of the Nightbrother that      she came here for-- her problematic pay check.

     It takes Tiali some time, careful search of the house as what       remains ebbs and breathes, clinging onto what little life remains      within it’s decimated walls, descending further and further into      the rabbit hole. Curses filter past smudged lips, trying to avoid      another cave in before finally reaching what remains of the first       floor. She see’s the sinkhole now, the culprit of this entire ordeal,      and in the darkness, among the tomb of wood, she see’s yellow      digits flinch, and registers that-- fortunately-- her bounty is very      much alive. Should he be? No, he took the brunt of this entire      house, and even she who merely dropped a floor, felt ready to      drop at any moment. She skulks closer, crouching down to look      down at the body, pulling and sorting enough to give his torso      enough movement for her to come to the realization he is still      very much alive-- and should proceed with caution. So, to make      sure he doesn’t decide to give her a hefty surprise, she jabs the      barrel of her blaster right at his throat.

     “Rise and Shine.”

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