You stay out there too long, you're not coming back.

clothing style.

before - bed routine. 

eating habits.

concept of home and family. 

hobbies. 

fighting style.

what calms your muse down after a bad day?

talk about one person your muse loves.

ways your muse says i love you.

describe your muse’s laugh. 

what items can be found in your muse’s pockets? 

talk about your muse’s most prized possession(s).

describe your muse’s walk. 

talk about your muse’s accent.

describe your muse’s smile. 

how often does your muse get sick?

does your muse know when to rest, or do they push themselves?

does your muse snore? sleeptalk? sleepwalk?

the thing(s) your muse thinks about before falling asleep.

is your muse a fitful or a quiet sleeper?

your muse’s thoughts on cops and other authority figures.

skills and special talents. 

disabilities or illnesses. 

habits and mannerisms.

introvert or extrovert.

religious or non - religious.

verbal or non - verbal communication.

something your muse could never forgive.

something that makes your muse smile.

something that scares your muse.

something that gives your muse hope.

how your muse responds to being helped / taken care of.

how your muse responds to unconditional love.

how your muse responds to danger.

how your muse responds to stress.  

how your muse responds to anger.

   Methane promptly ignites, and a back-mounted tank bursts with a pop and a sudden bang once Isiah squeezes off two shots towards the grunt waddling at what might just be the grunt landspeed record, a feat previously presumed unimaginable— which faceplants just short of her cover, before both plasma grenades flare off and detonate. Dust kicks up around the site of the blast, and the dilapidated wall they previously used for cover crumbled.

   When the dust settles, Kitt is nowhere to be found— the saving grace that might avoid drumming up any worry is that she’s still kicking, if their HUD and TEAMBIO is trustworthy in any sense, let alone the occasional faint yellow blip on Isiah’s motion tracker.

   Just when things may turn out worrisome— the pitter-patter of grunt feet and lit plasma grenades coming closer to Isiah— there’s a pair of loud cracks that echo from further behind the grunt. The tell-tale sound of photoreactive plates losing their concealing luster echoes shortly before the grunt falls face first and both grenades crack off. It’s close enough for both Spartans to feel the wash— but ideally, neither of them are harmed, although Kitt’s shield generator flares up.

   :: ” You called? ” ::

   Her green status light blinks as she lowers the M6H.

    Isiah brings up his forearm to shield his visor from the bright crackle, despite not really needing to. When he lowers it, he peers down to Kitt, managing a two-fingered tip of his fingers in appreciation. He returns a green blink out of habit, despite speaking up. “...Nice shot.”

    “We aren’t forgetting anyone, are we?” he adds, a second later, peering around the area. IFF radar seems clear, so does the sound of their surroundings... But visual confirmation was always nice. “I’d hate for someone to be left out. They usually come back with angry friends.” 

    He’s quick to re-secure his weapons and replace them at his back. Come to think of it, they’d probably spent a good chunk of time dealing with that little dance- What were they here for? Were they just here to cause trouble and be sandpaper on the Covenant’s ass, or did they still have an underlying mission?

Considerations: I may be moving Vess here to a secondary blog, and turning this one into a proper hub to view everyone else from.

   Two that had realized they were on the ropes— Kitt caught onto the ignition of two plasma grenades each, and it’s likely that Isiah did, as well.

   Didn’t help matters any that they were splitting up and— inbound to either Spartan’s position.

    Isiah’s voice is quick to pipe up as soon as the Sangheili drops. :: “May?” :: He’s quick to tap a round from his holdout magnum into their helmet-- just in case --and double back at a brisk jog, staying close to cover the whole while. 

    :: “..Let’s see here...” :: He mutters, most definitely catching the ignition. The pistol’s leveled out, and provided there’s distance between the grunt and Kitt... He’d squeeze off two shots, an attempt to shoot the payload that’s headed Kitt’s way-- or at least the grubby hand attached to it. 

    :: “Nix one.” ::

 :: “ … Charade is nixed. It was going to shoot you. Pinned now. Mandy’s going your way.” ::

  In order to drill her point into his head more effectively- her acknowledgement light flashed red as plasma fire spilled over her current choice of cover. She broke camouflage in that same moment, preferring to at least have some power to her shields now that she’s under the metaphorical limelight.

    Ugh. That stung like a motherfucker, but he’d had worse. He stood, quick, knowing it would be some time before his panels would be able to hide him again. The soft, repetitive beep in his ear warned him that he had no shields, either. He slung Sunny over his back, and instead drew his shotgun, preferring the close quarters weapon for reflex-taps than the three-second charge of the splaser. At the edge of the corner, he crouched down, and he waited, barrel level with the chest-height of a typical Sangheili.

    :: “Thanks, Kitt. I’ll deal with them, then double back to you. Got the shortstacks under control?” ::

    Their comm crackled-- staticky, but there. :: “If I’m not going crazy-- You called duress, Kitt. Everything square?” ::  His mind wandered for a moment to the gesture Kitt had made, but shook it off, trying to focus on avoiding, you know, getting shot. 

    He was almost to his next point of cover when a large piece of debris off the crumbling, bomb-shelled buildings around them came crashing down. He made the split-second decision to skid-- coming to a stop as he slammed right up into the concrete --and grunting. The smoke and debris would cover him for a moment, but with no way around, he would be stuck wide in the open in a few seconds time. 

    “...Shit,” he muttered. He had only a precious few seconds to decide what his next move would be, and make it. That move was to scale the rubble, which... Would go a lot better if he could see... And by time he could, he was at the top of the pile. In plain, open sight. His photoreactive panels had cut out entirely in the dust. 

    Isiah’s hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he dove for the other side, where another wall could serve as cover. He heard a shot crack off, felt something, but-- in the moment, he wasn’t sure where it hit. Only when he was face-down on the ground, safely behind cover, did he have time to look down and see the scalding heat rising from the back of his calf. A near-miss that clipped the armour, enough to transfer a nasty burn to the muscle behind it. “Son of a bitch...”

    He sighs, brushing some dirt from the laser as he considered it. “It’s a better plan, either way. I’ll draw their fire- I doubt they’ll be able to tell us apart if our plates are up. We’ll use it to our advantage; ‘Which cloaked asshole has the sniper?’”      The blue-clad Headhunter rose from his crouch, though he remains backed against solid cover. “Either way, let’s move fast. Matter of time before someone tries to smoke us out.” 

Send one for my muse’s reaction! Feel free to alter context, switch muse’s positions, etc, as necessary. Contains some mild NSFW.

guide take them by the hand, arm, or shoulder to guide them.

shelter protect them.

shove push them.

loop drape an arm around their shoulders.

touch a gentle touch like rubbing their back, hugging them, holding their hand. 

kiss a kiss on the cheek, knuckles, forehead, in their hair.

palm smack them upside the head.

bed rest gently push them back down when they try getting out of bed.

aid help them with a task.

note pass a note to them.

cry wipe away their tears.

wash wipe something off their forehead, cheek, so on.

bandage patch them up when they get hurt.

heal take care of them when they get sick.

book silently read a story with them. 

carry pick them up. 

scrap punch them.

cherry find blood on them.

sit help them sit down.  

medical wake up in the hospital and find them holding their hand.

steer place a hand under their chin to make them look up. 

beat dance with them.

stare stare them down. 

off track get lost with them.

no shaking their head in disagreement. 

yes nodding their head in agreement.

rush tackle them to the ground.