#ccynophobia

I mean Bloodhound is literally wearing a gas mask

ccynophobia The current mood is squinting at Pathfinder trying...

He doesnt want to hurt caustic’s feelings so he pretends to be polite

His head hurt and his body ached from the extended travel within the upside-down. Adrian had jogged his way across an open field, confused by all the sounds around him and the strange, huge screens depicting 'Legends' in all their glory. Distant gunfire sounded all around him, as did some strange, orange wall that seemed to circle the entire area. He'd managed to hide for a bit, but had been caught up between some sort of skirmish - having taken a glancing wound in his leg. Once hit, he'd fled like a wounded animal, metaphorical tail tucked and heart racing.

Then, everything got very quiet. No more battle, no more announcements of care packages - only a final announcement of the 'game' being put on hold. Adrian snuck, half-crouched and limping, through the water. It turned red around his calf, but it wouldn't kill him, he hoped. The coolness of the stream felt good and obscured his tracks for a little bit. Glancing up at another screen, he caught a flicker of a blurry image of himself - still in his experimental, baby blue and white jumpsuit. He gulped at the sight and hurried along nervously, coming across a steep, grassy hill and hugging the rock face, creeping along. He was confident that he could hide for a bit, needing to check his leg. Settling near a fallen tree, he crouched into the darkness of the bushes and whimpered nearly silently, touching at his bloodied calf.

It stung, he'd never been cut so deeply, so quickly before. Adrian pressed his palm against the wound and stared at the redness that clung to his hand when he pulled it away. Green eyes blinked quickly when he felt tears welling up in them. He was incredibly stressed and worn thing. First, he'd actually managed to escape -- just to end up in some other predicament. He curled into the bush and made himself very small, feeling hopeless and overwhelmed. 

     Bloodhound traces a finger around the indent of depressed mud. Size 7. Industrial boots. Small, quick steps. Lifeline, if they had to guess. And she’s alone. The mud’s still soft. She passed through within the last hour, at least. Towards the treeline.

     Wraith watches them work with a quiet fascination.

     ❝How can you know all this?❞

Their vision swam as they let their chin fall against their bloodied chest, a weak chuckle rattling out of them, a defiant wheeze. "Your cruelty shall be judged by the Allfather, even if it costs me my life," Bloth bares their teeth, turning their head away sharply when one of the doctors touches at their face.

brooklyn nine-nine starters // accepting!

   “All th’ gunfire, probably.” Lifeline shrugs, examining the contents of a newly opened crate. After swiping a new gun and some ammo, she turns to the other with a grin on her lips. “OR, it’s because they saw YOU comin’.” She teases, swinging the riffle in her hand up so it’s leaning on her shoulder. 

‘Carrying the weight of his burdens’, bold of you to assume he feels remorse