' ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀᴍ.

          “  ‘ not from around here ‘ ?  wonder what gave it away. “  he could be kinder, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t put any effort into being less than his usual standoffish self. perhaps more so, where he stands -- goggles pulled down over his eyes, fabric pulled up to hide his face 

          if someone didn’t know any better, they’d think he’s a thief, someone looking for trouble. ( not entirely wrong! )  “ i’m not from anywhere in particular, don’t bother to ask. “

SCREAMS WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM I’D DIE FOR YOU

“Easy there tiger. No need to get so defensive, I was just giving some advice. And hey, from what i’ve seen so far you seem to be handling things just fine.” Arms went behind her back as gloved fingers laced together, and then a slight tilt of her head to the left. 

That place, the wasteland beyond the walls. It was not a place for the faint of heart or for foolish idiots. Ula has already proven many times she can handle what is beyond the walls. However, she has been through a lot and has come through it stronger than ever. “Just know that the missions ahead will only become more difficult. Sometimes, it makes more sense to ask for help then be reckless. Didn’t your parents ever teach you to think before you just jump into things.”

          sharp response on his tongue dulls at the mention of what he never had. with an exterior none too different from the walls of the desert city, rough  &  not particularly inviting to outsiders, there’s little that squeezes through the cracks left after countless bombardments. as much of a wall as he may be  ( that which often defends others or keeps people out ),  everything has a weakness,  &  within moments she found his.

          still, he falters little. 

          “ that’s what you do here.  FIGHT. “  it’s the law of the land, the way of survival. only the strongest, smartest, will survive the heated waves of air blown through the desert, or the chilling night air when the moon rises. everyone plays a part in this never ending war called life ; spargus’ warriors never  have a moment to rest, unless they’re dead. 

          those useless are thrown out, back into the scorching sands with storms violent enough to end a person long before the marauders do. fighting is all they know what to do, now, it seems almost. though, he prefers this over any ...  “ life “  in haven.

          “ don’t think you’re up to it? “

@marhearted

Ula had heard about the newest warrior to join Spargus. Heard the whispers of him being found out in the scorching sands, passed out. And how Damas had brought him back. She recognized the young man from Haven, during the whole incident with the Baron and Kor. Now Ula didn’t approach him straight away. Instead, she watched him from afar for at least a good week. 

It was only then after doing one of Dama’s ridiculous and dangerous missions did she approach the young man. “Seems like you’re making quite a name for yourself here. But don’t get too cocky, one mistake out here could cost you dearly. And Damas won’t always be there to help you out.”

        he’d felt WATCHED for a while, a feeling he’s long come to loathe entirely. he shouldn’t be shocked -- he never was, actually --  that eyes are on him at every waking moment, to make certain he doesn’t fuck things up for the hard work all have put into the desert town, to test him to see if he can truly handle the dangers presented to them at every turn. MOST eyes strayed from him after a while, either content with what they saw or interest lost, but there was still... a lingering feeling.

          returning from his latest test / mission, he’s soon approached by a new face, one he either hadn’t seen before or ... really, didn’t care enough to remember. a constant moving force, one mission after another, someone needs to make a real impression if they want him to remember.           ... &, she does that. partly.