#braeveries

[decimatlas]

try jiggling the handle. (julia to miguel lmfao)

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” His response drips with sarcasm as he reaches behind Julia to grab the handle. Why was this damn closet so small, anyway? The two have somehow found themselves in many the compromising situation in their time (humorous, really) — and the amount has only increased since Miguel took the temporary position of soccer coach. It is, in fact, his taking of the position that got them into this mess, anyway; Julia would get roped into helping an after school program, and Miguel — who had been spending more and more time there — would get looped in turn. Today, a simple, ‘can you grab a couple extra tables?’ turned into getting trapped in the confined space which held them. Yeah, he sees the damn tables alright. They mock them, leaned against the back wall. Useless now, if they can’t get out.

And it wouldn’t be so easy, wouldn’t it? To just use his abilities to knock the door down? But no, he can’t do that — now can he? It would cause too many problems, raise too many alarms. There were too many eyes around. Though, none mattered more to him than Julia’s. And knowing her, she’s probably wishing she could knock the door clean off its hinges herself.

“I think it locked when it shut behind us,” he observes, a jiggle of the handle confirming his statement. Luckily, there’s a lock on the inside as well — probably for the poor fools that found themselves in the same situation. He cranes his neck to look down at her, brows rising in inquiry. Hopefully, it isn’t too evident that he is doing everything in his power to keep his patience.

“Know how to pick a lock?”

[decimatlas]

@braeveries – continued from here.

What may appear as an unexpected drop-in to her is certainly calculated by him. Sharply dressed in his suit, Miguel makes his way into Julia’s classroom, the corners of his lips twitching slightly upwards as he notices that endearing shade of pink flush over her cheeks.

❛ Just had a meeting with Principal Lopez… I’m filling in for the soccer coach for a couple weeks. ❜ Ah, yes. A meeting that most-assuredly required a suit.

He watches as she descends from the chair, unhung banner in hand, and he gently moves forward to take it from her grasp.

❛ Let me. ❜ Miguel offers, reaching up with ease and placing the banner above the chalkboard. Gaze flits down towards her for approval, his tone playful as his lips part. ❛ This look good, Miss Julia? ❜

[decimatlas]

❛  look  at  me .  ❜ din to eden

She's reluctant to look up, eyes downcast and avoiding his looming presence over her. If there's one thing Eden hates, it's seeming vulnerable. Even when she's alone with someone like Din – someone so incredibly close to her – she still struggles with it. Her eye is blackened; remnants of a cantina fight that she had won, but not come out of unscathed. But Din persists, a gloved hand already underneath her chin, gently urging her to look up. Yet he doesn't force her. When her head finally tilts upwards, it is by her own volition. And now her bruised eye is on full display. ❛ It's not as bad as it looks. ❜ A lie. It hurts. Badly.  

[decimatlas]

" you’re an idiot and i’m very proud of you. don’t do that again. " din to eden

❛ This idiot just saved your ass. ❜ Eden tucks her blasters away, letting out a breath. She can't believe that worked. She takes a few strides towards Din; she stands before him, reaching up to pull him down by the shoulder and press her forehead against his helmet. A Mandalorian custom he'd taught her. ❛ Let's get out of here. ❜

[decimatlas]

❛  drag .   to  pull  my  muse  closer  by  a  piece  of  clothing . [mirai to poe]

❛ No, I'm done listening to you. ❜ Poe hisses through gritted teeth, moving to brush past the mechanic. It's then that she catches him by the fabric of his flight suit, yanking him towards her instead – and successfully preventing him from moving to walk around her. They're so close now; Poe looks down at Mirai with squinted eyes –– however, he can't help but to notice the way her brows furrow when she's angry, the glint in her eyes when she's determined. Hell, even with the anger directed at him, Poe strangely... doesn't mind it as much as he thought he would. So, he remains there, unmoving from her grasp. His voice comes out soft – yet, a challenge underlies his tone. ❛ What? – You got me here. What now, Caveel? ❜

[decimatlas]

@braeveries gets a starter for Ronnie.

Quinn stares down at her mask, which she now holds in her hands. It isn't often the two get to catch their breath like this – especially these days. But right now, it is silent. Right now, they catch their breath. And they are most assuredly not taking a single moment of it for granted. ❛ You ever... wonder what life would be like without all this...? ❜ A nod down to the fabric she clutches between fingers.

And she asks the question genuinely, honestly. Her tone is raw, as if she shouldn't be asking such a thing, but she dares to anyway. It's a silly question, in theory. There's nothing they can do about that now. They have these powers, this responsibility. There's no changing that, and there's no changing their lives now. And truth be told, she wouldn't change it. All considering, she's been quite lucky. Ronnie is a spectacular partner; she makes everything more bearable. ❛ Sometimes I wonder if it was fate... or if it was just dumb luck. ❜ She isn't even sure what she believes in anymore – fate, luck, coincidence. Does it even matter?

[decimatlas]

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜ rai to poe

❛ Oh, aren't you nice? ❜ He retorts over the comms, flipping switches and pushing buttons on the console. The had First Order ships on their tail, and they couldn't shake them. They were aggressive, as per usual –– lasers flew past as Poe maneuvered around. ❛ How about we both make it alive out of here, and then I'll think about letting you kill me? –– Dank farrik... on your left, Caveel! ❜

[decimatlas]

🤕  -  a  starter  where  my  muse  is  patching  up  your  muse’s  injuries.  [isla to erwin]

Wounds were par for the course for them. Even when they were within the bounds of the walls – far away from the throws of battle, inflictions were common. Perhaps they were even more of a normalcy for people like them, like Erwin and Isla – who put their all into their training. They hadn't stepped outside the walls yet, but the two treated every training session, every exercise, as if it were life or death.

Because one day, it would be.

And of course, training in such a way led to wounds. Plenty of them. Led to them patching each other up, off to the side of the grounds. They hissed through clenched teeth, let out an expletive or two as the other cleaned and wrapped wounds. Par for the course.

Currently, Isla kneels beside him, gauze in hand. She presses against a fresh cut on Erwin's arm. He had stumbled backwards as they were sparring, fell – landed the wrong way. Luckily, all he sustained was a cut (more of a gash, really) on his arm. He was ready to shrug it off and jump back into training, but Isla had stopped him. Pulled him aside.

And he has no choice but to give in to her, that demanding look in her eyes, one that read, 'don't try it.' Don't try jumping back into the fight. I'll put down my blade – help you – so you don't bleed all over the place.

So, here they sit. Isla wraps Erwin's arm, and he clenches his teeth. Par for the course. He glances up at her as she focuses on her work. She's a paradox – vicious in combat in one moment, caring in the next.

❛ I'll be more careful next time. ❜ He says aloud. Not really to her, though she is the only one within earshot. There'd be no room for error on the battlefield. He'd make his mistakes here, fix them here – so he could be perfect once he exits those walls.

And for now, he supposes he could accept this act of kindness, of care. After all, she has always looked out for him – ever since they met on the first day of training. And Erwin has done the same for her. ❛ Thank you, Isla. ❜