#adam01

When the apartment felt too small, the cracks on the wall feeling as though they were going to cave in, Adara would grab her coat and go. It didn’t quite matter when, it didn’t matter how long- being in a crowd of strangers could settle her thoughts until the waves turned into ripples. Her panacea this time was a little place in Greenwich- pool tables, a smoky air, and a jukebox that threw whatever 70s hit it could find. For the better half of an hour, home was a nice old fashion. Just as she made her way towards the bar, her frame bumped into another person. Insouciant gaze turned upwards- this... was someone familiar. Not to Adara personally, but all the same. She’d seen his face somewhere. Nonetheless, she maneuvered her arm, saving what was left of her drink. The smell of alcohol permeated her senses, the wobbly nature of her counterpart signaling one clear thing: they were properly drunk. “Whoa there buddy- almost owed me a drink, there. You alright?”  She said, a cheshire cat grin pulling at her lips. 

—Destruction is evident, she didn’t need to see it with her own eyes to know that. Despite how normally unshakable she was in the face of destruction, there was no stopping the rapidly heavy feeling from sinking in the pit of her stomach and making it’s home there. Hands clapped over her ears at the explosive noises that rocket from the television set in her apartment, smile completely wiped from her face.

This was terrible. 

She didn’t really understand most of the things being said, things about power vs those without, but she got the gist. It was about proving what normal people were capable of. The more she thought about it, the more it weighed on her, so she decided it was something best left for later. Whatever the woman said about it rebuilding later and people coming back didn’t make it any better, and so Nora put it into her head that as a Huntress, she had to help. Regardless of whether or not it would end up being a fruitless endeavor. Giving up wasn’t in her vocabulary. 

Being only one sector away meant it wasn’t as long a run as it could have been, despite still being a lengthy distance, but it took a lot more than that to tire her out. On the way, she’d filled her empty hands with a lengthy pipe off the side of a building, offering a simple loud apology as she continued. Being weaponless at all times wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed, and being prepared was one of the mottos of Beacon. There was so much smoke in the air, yells in the distance, people going this way and that in the chaos that ensued, and this reminded her of a startlingly familiar scene from before she arrived.

The only difference was there was no Grimm to beat this way and that. This was solely the work of a person.

Pink soles slow down on the concrete as somebody seems to hobble a block up from her, all black and red and sticky. The way he walks causes brows to knit together, and she moves her weapon from it’s position raised in front of her to her side as she pushes herself up on her toes as if to get a better look at him from her position at his back.

And then she’s hastening her pace so she’s a few steps behind him, taking notice of the blood that seems to drip from his clothes, worry lacing her voice. 

❝ Hey--! Are you OK?

You look really hurt...I can take you to a hospital! Come on, it’s probably not far! ❞