#default.

Rust gathered in the neglected crevices of humanity, dithered though present. The wind howls at him as if disdainful of the black smoke he exhales along its back, dark and singed like rough-churned coal from the dry gullet of a chimney stack, @umbralsun, 𐚁.

Smoke, like breath, exhales from the burnished shaft of his exhausted pistol and the cowboy, himself, stoically succumbs to the silver haze, @animmal.

The burnished shaft of his barrel is vertical to his hat's sweeping brim, muzzle cozied up nicely to its fine leather edge. The hand that wields it wears gloves in spite of its mechanical anatomy, tendons gently, tenderly, whirring beneath a streetlamp, @tormenther, 𐚁.

having barely escaped the throes of battle, the pair find themselves currently stranded, the only way out is ᵘᵖ. not this shit again, he thinks, scowling at their predicament. it's mission after mission, his body has clearly begun to wear down from the gymnastic tricks he's doing. higher up is a ladder, a red bandana tightly woven around it, calling for their attention. he turns to 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝚄𝚁𝙴, kneeling down and patting his shoulder blade, a silent invite to pull it down. [ get that for me, would'ya? ]

he holds his gun up, arms crossed in a sort of protective stance, flashlight throws illumination to the darkened hallway. the wolf steps softly, hugging the wall, slipping into the dim corridor. there's a feeling of unease that hangs in the air, something leon notices nearly instantly, having learned to develop practically  𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙻 - 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 instincts during his time in training. ( go with your gut: DON'T THINK! ) 

" claire! " leon rushes by her side, pulling her up to a standing position, eyes once so bright now dimmed into a sickly blue. he never expected to see her here, not after everything. " you— you, ᵘʰ, look ... " ( different. ) there is something wounded inside both of them. something skitters behind the pair, returning to the deep forest, clearly not wanting to be seen.

blood pools in his mouth, spilling over his tongue.— leon spits, wiping the crimson remnants, only to smear it across his cheek. croft is much quicker and agile than he, which aligns with her figure ﹠ her athletic form. despite 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 of training, he's hardly able to keep up. through one swift leap, leon lands harshly on the damp stone ten feet across from him. " fuck, " he breathlessly utters, slipping forwards, gloved palm pushing his weight up.