#guxrdia

[ritchassbaxterd]

@guxrdia

“What a gorgeous gun you’ve got there.”

“I’d love to see how it works, really -- could you fire it? Just once?”

He comes sidling up from behind, appearing where nothing stood just seconds before. There’s a smile on his face that’s anything but trustworthy. Reaching out, he taps the barrel of the gun curiously.

“What planet did you get it from? I’ve never seen anything like it.” Examining her briefly, he chuckles. “Must be military-issued, right?”

[sacrediron-blog]

ᴡᴏʀᴋ & ᴘʟᴀʏ

@guxrdia

For a man who was raised for war, the scenery of shores with seas lapping against their sands wasn’t so much unusual, but that of one with hundreds of others frolicking with only play on their minds was very much.

As awkward as that was, his feeling of incongruousness relocated him to the shade of a shack offering various staples for an experience at the beach. But in the back of his head, something nagged. Not the absence of one voice, but the entrance of another.

There had been a warning issued before the transition from bitter winter winds in a torn city to the sweltering heat of a cheerful summer. An echo which brought his head around, to meet with another stationed nearby. Another suited for battle, a world away from celebration, in the shade of the summer party.

If that was even what they saw within the mist

"Something doesn’t feel right; why gather here when the city’s in ruins? Those scientists... are out there, aren’t they?” His knowledge of Hive City was limited, it couldn’t have been something he imagined, could it? “They don’t seem the type for a beach party when their city is falling apart”.

[wingedleather-blog]

                                                                          -- @guxrdia --➵

the “welcome back” party wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time. 

he was instead met with widespread destruction, or its aftermath; its echoes. life was as normal in this Hive City place, minus a few buildings and a less congested stroll down the road. so a few buildings collapsed and people probably died, big whoop-- unless it happened to be someone he actually gave a damn about. the thought prompted he chew on his lip, but with a glance toward the horizon, greying blues narrowed beneath daylight’s glare, the archer descended a mountain of rubble for the neighbouring mess.

the mound shed loose scraps of debris in his step’s wake before he stepped off and onto solid ground, making for next door, knuckles taut about the strap of his crossbow. a kick shifted some crumbled stone and a broken piece of steel aside, and he stooped to collect what it hid: a dirtied book, slightly charred. he guessed he were now standing where a book store did, and a decent look confirmed it; loose pages and blackened paperbacks trapped beneath stone and littering the scene otherwise.

well, this wasn’t his scene, but maybe it was someone else’s. so, with a brief look at its cover, discerning it were fiction at least-- something about a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe-- he rose with it in hand. maybe the lava lamp’ll enjoy it.