REFRESH MY BROKEN MIND [Lincoln]

[Py Ackerman]

[bg=190902][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true] He hadn’t had to travel far to reach his desired destination, but said destination was less than desirable in the eyes of most Carna for the simple reason that it both did not belong to them nor was it considered ‘neutral‘ lands any longer. While Py acknowledged both these facts, he simply didn’t care. It was a good place to hunt, it was close to his ring, and if he stopped to worry about the risks he could potentially face he might’ve as well not set foot outside at all. He was also alone, something which was perhaps foolish, but he preferred the solitude over a hunting party of three or four if he could help it. Brushing aside a tree branch with one gloved hand, he peered across the small clearing before him, eyes narrowed against the sunlight slanting through the trees. A quick, deep breath had told him that he was fairly safe, for now. There were no Fulsi in his general vicinity that he could scent or see, although he kept alert for the slightest of movements or sounds. His quarry, however, had the majority of his focus and attention. The hunter had been trailing it for some time, following its tracks and musky odour, being careful to move as soundlessly as he could. The creature stood a few feet from him now, an older buck with an impressive set of antlers; it nibbled casually at some low-grown shrubs, blissfully unaware of his presence. From what Py could tell, it had a hint of a limp - from arthritis or an old wound, perhaps - but he doubted that that would hinder it much when the time came for it to flee for him. He had only just begun to press forward, hefting the weight of the spear in his right hand so that it was properly balanced, when there was a sharp crack. The sound pierced the silence of the forest, disturbing all the present native wildlife in the process, including his prey. The buck snapped its head up, ears and tail pricked, and sprang away into the undergrowth with a snort and a huff before Py had the chance to make a lunge forward. Swearing profusely within his thoughts, the Carna withdrew back into hiding, eyes darting to try and find the source of the noise. It had sounded like breaking branches, but after waiting a solid five minutes for something or someone to emerge, all seemed well. He waited another five just to be sure before slowly stepping back out again, this time fully exposed. Py was dressed for the occasion, at least; muted colors of various browns, greens, and greys made up his outfit, the sun glancing off them dully. Said outfit might’ve clashed with his hair if the hood of his jacket hadn’t been drawn up over it to hide the brilliant pink shine. Nice color or no, it was a dead giveaway in a forest where everything was mostly green. Even the animals fled from the sight of it - he’d learnt that the hard way before. With a resigned sigh, he began to tread back towards the edges of the park‘s playground, which he’d had to come through on his way from Carna. He’d had some luck before, at least, having previously made a few smaller animal kills when he’d first come there. They’d fitted nicely in the pack he’d brought with him, and he figured it’d be enough to satisfy his higher-ups. Still, he really had been craving some deer stew, and Maddox would no doubt beat him over the head with a ladle later on for not providing her the necessary ingredients for it. Upon reaching the park‘s interior, however, the hunter drew to a halt, his grip on the spear tightening momentarily. There was someone there, and his brain automatically jumped to defensive mode, assuming it was some Fulsi. And then he relaxed again as the scent filtered into his brain and he registered it with slight surprise. ...Fallen? ooc; AND SUDDENLY I SEEEEEE…a Fallen. I can edit this and stuff, yo x’D Just lemme know. I thought this’d be easiest for them to stumble across each other xDDD AND LOOK, A SPEAR 8’D ALSO, YES. PY IS AWARE HE'S TRESPASSING. Buthedoesn'tcare >.>; *eatshim* ...yessss, a Fulsi will find them, dunworryboutit.

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[Lincoln Avery]

His morning hadn't gone well--Okay, so that was a grievous understatement; his morning had sucked with a vengeance so far. At least it wasn't raining, which greatly improved his flagging spirits and made the swelling, seeping tear marring his lower lip almost worthwhile. Almost. If it weren't also for the fact that he'd been drug from bed at an ungodly hour, forced to march into the middle of a near literal nowhere with only his grumpy, slap-happy hunting mentor for company...and had gotten promptly decked in the mouth just seconds prior to being unceremoniously tethered to a tree and abandoned. All before he'd had breakfast even, something his stomach grumbled testily about even now. At first Linc thought it'd been a prank, or perhaps payback for cracking jokes about the poor guy's momma, that he was being watched and about to be pounced upon. But by the time he'd managed to free himself of the bindings the sun had crawled over the horizon fully, sweat from toiling in a muggy mist dissipating from rising heat sticking the fabric of his faded blue shirt to his back and hair to forehead, and he'd stopped laughing.

Which is how he found himself slogging through spring's muddy alleys, his bare toes squelching lightly in soft earth blanketed by moldering pine needles with each pace, ten feet of braided rope looped over his shoulder; one frayed tail dragging at his heels and a handful of heavily wet, mostly clean snow he'd scooped off a well shaded bank filling his palm. Bites taken, melting across his tongue, to slake his thirst as he wove between the trees, eerily silent, aside from the icy crunch of chewing, for once, ears soaking in the chorus of the woodlands coming alive.

It felt almost like being back home if he closed his eyes. Excluding the faint, pervasive scent of an apparently rival ring. Certainly not the wisest idea or action he'd ever take given that he was wandering 'enemy' territory just asking to be shanked and turned into jerky, but one he couldn't help but give into the temptation of, if only for a moment. Face tilting toward sky peeking past the canopy, Linc smiled, ripping the sealed scab in the center of his lower lip open to bead with fresh blood once more; the ache a sharp reminder of reality, yanking him back into the present. Just in time for him to freeze in his steps, snow lifted to staunch the wound, confronted by a thick tangle of nasty looking brambles that clung to the edge of a brightly lit clearing, he'd nearly walked straight into. Twin blue pools drifted along the wall, fruitlessly seeking a break in the thorny deterrent blocking his path home, and finding none, darted beyond it to the glade flush with young blooms and tender grass. Then back again. And finally, slowly, down to naked toes. Once more to the clearing.The bushes. Toes.

Linc sighed, hefting the coiled rope off his shoulder to pool messily on the forest floor, shook slush from his fingers, and cast a quick sideways scan of surrounding area for anything, or anyone, Fulsi-shaped before he turned on his heel, wandering a short distance back the way he'd come to grab a dropped branch with enough substance to help him beat a path through the spiny undergrowth. Returning with it perched over his shoulder, he swiped the damp mess of hair from his face and stared most dispassionately at the plants. Experimentally prodding and nudging at the plant, edging closer to peer at the hopelessly locked together prongs studded with thorns to rival skewers, Lincoln's brows sloped into a thoughtful pinch.

A squirrel chirped a hasty warning note at the intruder under it's home, shaking the bough overhead when it leapt from one vantage point to another, and the burst of noise and motion startled him into swinging wide in a knee-jerk reaction; the limb in his hands striking the base of the nearest tree and snapping both sapling and wooden club with an echoing crack. Reverberations of the impact jarred up his arms, causing his hands to unconsciously allow the splintered hunk of wood to drop, and tipped his balance. A stumbled, careless footfall placing the very appendages he'd been trying to protect well within the barb's range; mild string of obscenities hissing on a harsh breath through his teeth when they made their dislike of being jabbed at known by piercing the sole of his foot. The tree-bound rodent chattered again, seemingly laughing at his misfortune, as he hopped on one foot, picking the needles from his heel, then gingerly tested his weight on it with a few shuffling strides; rope bundle snagged from the ground as he passed, eyes rolling in defeat at the thorny brush, giving it a wide berth in circling around.

Today was just not his day. He was tired, hungry, and pretty sure he should have gone left at that rock that looked like a frog--or was it a frog that looked like a rock? He also had no idea why he was even bothering to cart the rope around any longer. Except that it'd be his responsibility to make a new one if he came back without it. He barely noticed, limping and grumbling under his breath, the thinning of the woods until he staggered onto the hem of the park; the sudden field and swell of sunlight drawing a confused, somewhat pained blink at the shift of vividly lit scenery. "Definitely shoulda gone left at the frog." He chuckled bemusedly to himself, wiping the sweat from his palms dry on the rear pocket of his ragged jeans and hitching the roll of cable higher upon his shoulder where it'd begun to slip.

The meadow of rusted jungle-gym equipment tugged Linc forward a cautious step from under his minuscule cover of bush and branch, the breath he'd caught and pent in his lungs gradually leaking free when he could neither see, hear, nor smell any Fulsi influence on a gently shifting salt-tinged breeze. And so, tread by careful step he eased further into the plain, crossing the patchy grass rug toward deteriorating monkey bars. The glance shot over his shoulder was one last precaution before he succumbed to an all consuming urge; breaking into a run, all pain and weariness forgotten instantly, to close those last few feet.

Rope unraveled as it fell from his grasp, left discarded in the dirt, so he might climb the rungs, and clamber atop the construct with the intent to act a shameless goof, but he was stopped by the scent trickling back around, caught in a miniature whirlwind that, as it hit him, ruffled his hair into further disarray. Perching upon the uppermost notch of the tarnished monkey bars, Linc used it to view the grounds; craning his neck in an attempt to glimpse past the slides for the source, fingers tensed to a white-knuckled grasp upon rust eaten metal. Mostly to keep himself from tipping sideways along with the swaying metal frame. His curiosity piqued by the dull outline of a shoulder and hood-covered head he could spy just over the crumbling cusp of wooden beams and metal tubing, lifting his voice into a cheerful, though entirely vague, greeting toward the strange Carna."Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see."

Ooc: ...Let the randomness begin with some Monty Python-y goodness? Sorryit'ssolongpleasedon'thurtme? *runs away*

[Py Ackerman]

[bg=190902][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true] A soft breath escaped from between his lips, more a sigh of relief than anything else, and his brows drew together in brief surprise. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it until just then. It wasn’t necessary, anyhow. The Fallen were alright in his books, and they always had been, but the alliance that the Carna ring now had with them only served to strengthen this liking of his. With a quiet, easy whistle, the man lowered the tip of his spear towards the ground, grip loose and non-threatening, and then casually began to approach the playground where the scent was most intense. His blue eyes drifted over the well-worn, rusting equipment in an attempt to seek out the source of the smell, but he didn‘t have to look very far. In fact, all he had to simply do, as he edged around a slide slick with dew and streaked with dirt, was to look up. Way up. And he did just that when the other man called down to him, his words causing Py to freeze in his tracks - although this was more out of habit than at the actual command they had contained. Squinting up at him, hand resting against his forehead to block the sun’s harsh glare, he caught a glimpse of a shock of dark hair and clinging limbs, and couldn’t help but grin a little. Never too old to play on the monkey bars, it seemed. The hunter took a few steps closer before planting the butt of the spear firmly into the ground and fishing around in his bag to pull out a small canteen of water. After taking a quick swig and swiping his tongue over his lips thoughtfully, he shouted back up at the other, the baritone of his voice unfortunately carrying much too far for his liking, and he hoped no-one else was in the vicinity. “Bridge of Death, eh? Maybe I took a wrong turn.” However, the reference that man had used hadn’t gone over his head, even though it had taken a moment or two before it clicked in his mind, and he offered the Fallen a sweeping bow before straightening up, voice teasing, “Ask me the questions, bridge keeper. I am not afraid.” While waiting, he took the opportunity to push back the hood of his jacket in discomfort, hair blindingly bright as the light caught it. The man was far too hot, a fact which was contested by his fringe plastered damply against his forehead and his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. An annoyed sound rising in his throat, he brushed his hair - which was in dire need of a haircut - off his face and tied it back up with a piece of leather string. As for his clothes...had he been anywhere else, Py would have taken off the jacket, and possibly his shirt, a long while ago, but both offered him some odd sense of comfort and protection, not to mention he was now in the company of a strange, so he left them on and took another small sip of water instead. There was still plenty left - he’d been rationing it to make it last throughout the day. Looking at the man above him, however, he seemed far worse off; there were no packs around, no water bottles…None that he could see, anyways. A brief flash of sympathy shot through him, and he was about to toss the canteen up to him when he realized that would probably only cause him to fall off the bars. They didn’t seem very stable, and it was rather windy out, as it were. So, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he called up once more, waggling the bottle at him temptingly. “Although, bridge keeper, if you were to climb down from there a moment I’d be rather inclined to share this with you. Food, too, if you’re hungry. Perhaps then I might be able to ask you some questions of my own?” A pause followed, coupled with a broadening grin, before he added, “Unless you want me to come up there, of course.” Eyeing up the bars skeptically, the Carna shook his head upon deciding that it was far too much a hassle to do so; he wasn’t a particularly talented climber, for one thing, and for another, he loathed to leave his stuff where it was, lest he have to make a quick getaway for some reason. ooc; ...he brings peace offerings? :3 /postforapology Lemme know if it's enough to work with ;-; Also, I gave Linc some fanservice *shot* x'D

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