-the back door of the car opens, as a man in a black suit steps out-
-jet black hair, tanned skin and the darkest and most piercing eyes you could ever see-
-a man of intimidating presence, with a stoic and neutral face-
-the cat sits itself upon his shoulder-
I see Apollyon was right...
-a small frown creeps onto his chiseled exterior-
And you ask about why your sentry didn't fire. And I would assume it knows what is and what isn't a threat.
1.5 imperial gallons of tea were consumed during the writing of this postThat is rather safe to assume.
You are the one he mentioned in his dispatch?
-he peers over towards the wheelbarrow-
His... last dispatch, even.
-his sigh isn't audible, but it's there-
... Do you have some form of identification?
1.5 imperial gallons of tea were consumed during the writing of this post-Maeva eats in the kitchen, getting more used to using knives and forks as opposed to the far superior turian cutlery-
-Not used enough, though, she eventually sets them down and picks the chunk of meat up to tear with her teeth-
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?Liman shakes her head as she pushes the wheelbarrow along towards the outpost's back.
"I-I...trust you—I'll take your w-word for it.", motioning for him to follow as she moved along. As she steps by the building, a hatch opened and a drone larger than she is hovered out
◊, lifting a man-sized container with the Helghast military arm
symbol emblazoned on it.
It set the container beside a marked patch of land, with a rudimentary gravemarker made out of a salvaged piece of the building beside it.
"It. Is. Ready. Ma'am.", the drone beeped out as she walked along towards the grave site, stopping by it.
всегда верен-Maeva stops eating, looking around with a hint of concern-
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?-Nikola walks alongside Liman, the black cat known as Apollyon keeping to his shoulder-
I make it my business to be present for the funeral of any of my accomplices.
Especially one that was with me when I first began this venture.
And one as dependable as Griffin, more so.
Another founder dead. I never thought I'd see the day.
1.5 imperial gallons of tea were consumed during the writing of this post-The woman politely nods, tucking her handkerchief away-
Salvē. I pray for you, friend, for we live in troubling times. May the iron of your flesh slough to reveal the goodness beneath it.
-Link-
Yes. It is just a small malady I am blessed with. Fear not.
edited 27th Mar '17 12:32:13 PM by eldritchseer
...
I am sorry, I am not good speaking English.
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?Mmm.
The first years were rocky.
Mostly with other members, rather than with myself.
He wasn't always of the same outlook to the majority...
Though with myself, we had common ground- and he respected me, as I respected him.
After our... first loss- he settled down more as he grew to know us all better.
He became a confidant- but even so, we didn't see eye-to-eye when 1936 came along.
However, I knew his reasons- and I allowed him to abstain from those actions which he would object to- same courtesy that I gave to another member. Those two also grew to be better friends as a result of this- even though at the start, they had one of the roughest times- hardly seeing eye to eye, even though both had similar outlooks.
Helped them find similarities, and so they became good friends. I dare-say that he'd want him at this funeral too.
But... that man is incarcerated right now.
-he straightens his tie a little bit-
We've had some hard hits lately.
1.5 imperial gallons of tea were consumed during the writing of this postIt is good that I do not speak the tongue of the Angles so well, either. What tongue is your mother, that Babel's folly so spitefully struck from the holy root?
-Link-
You are too kind. I do not require many more, however, for you see- God is at my side in all matters, great...
-Gestures vaguely, giving her handkerchief a brief shake-
And small.
-Reveals that the blood has vanished from it-

"...?"
She quickly trots over, dragging the wheelbarrow behind her as she approaches the car.
"Why...isn't the sentry...is it jammed...?", she briefly wonders to herself.
всегда верен