#ichorcoded

Dark bags rest beneath tired eyes, but when he catches a glimpse of himself in the nearest broken shards of glass, at just the right angle, Ezra might almost believe that it was the shadows playing a trick. What are most certainly not tricks, however, are the small signs of aging across his features - nearly eight years without a mirror; could he be blamed for staring just a little? 

Tilting his head this way and that, finding the familiar and the strange for a long few moments before attention turns back to the hotel he hoped might provide refuge for the night. 

Glass crunches under stolen Arasaka militia boots as they step forward, eyeing the opening provided by such destruction. Shards still stick out from the window frame, a potential danger - the last thing he needs is some infection to off him after years of the Corpos trying their hardest to achieve the same.

Pulling off his sweater, the former streetkid instead wraps the clothing around their arm to knock the remaining pieces of glass from their steadfast positions and onto the ground, allowing him a clear way of entry into the building. 

POINTLESS EVA FACTS | accepting! | @ichorcoded

eva’s first languages are taselhit and moroccan arabic. she learned french when she was younger, and english when she moved to the states - due to lack of practice and drastic memory loss, english is the only language eva can reliably speak. however, if you speak taselhit or arabic TO her, she’ll likely understand, even if it takes her a second.

despite her affinity for flowers, she doesn’t know how to make flower crowns.

... Perhaps the night was her favorite time. At night, while everyone rested, or were far away on their own tasks, the base was empty to the maximum, giving her a chance to take a break from the general feeling of the people around, breathe cool night air with her full chest, or just sleep off in absolute silence, sometimes interrupted by curling the wind. This case was not very different from others.

The moonlight interestingly outlined her, playing on wet hair and highlighting the already bright eyes. Gingerly fingering the keys of the piano, she seemed to be ... Not here at the moment. She didn't particularly heard what was happening around, only hearing the sounds made by the instrument. Her gaze was out of focus, seeing only a little in front of herself. The clothes in which she was only at the base — an old sweatshirt a little large in size, shorts and still a little wet hair created a kind of illusion of everyday life, as if she was now sitting at home. Her mind even decided to play along with it, reproducing the sound of a crackling fireplace, which of course wasn't there.

After the hot springs, her head seemed to be empty, as if the hot steam took with him not only the fatigue in the body, but also all those aggravating thoughts that were with her every second after the resurrection. A pleasant feeling of slight weakness after hot water (not one of those people of course who can tolerate high temperatures) was just now for her - her hands moved as if by themselves, gently playing some kind of calm melody. Perhaps at that moment she completely withdrew into herself, not paying attention to what could happen around.

But you can't fool your instincts.

Some steps were heard from behind, still far away. Not to say that she didn't react - rather, her body was too relaxed to flinch. Therefore, listening to the volume, dimensionality and frequency of steps, finding out who it could be, she turned her body a little and turned in his direction. It was still possible to discern some tiredness on her face — the absence of sleep for several days in a row made itself felt  — however, she didn't look so bad. At least that's what she said to herself. However, to meet someone at such a late time not part of her plans at all. And there was probably only one explanation.

She awakens with a jolt, head throbbing and heart pounding; everything is dark. Things scuttle in the silence, the smallest noise making Revan jerk instinctively, preparing herself to fight even as she struggles to her feet. 

Everything is wrong. She doesn’t know how she knows this, only that she can feel it in her bones; in her soul. 

Revanelan manages to right herself in silence, an unusual terror pushing caution into her every movement. 

In the far-off distance, there is a light; a bright, radiating light, silhouetting a figure she cannot quite make out the details of. Nothing else of note can be found in the landscape, barren and dark as it is - and although the pulsing in her head would normally drive her to seek out the darkness, she can’t shake the feeling that staying in this place for too long would only hasten her demise. 

With that in mind, she cautiously moves forward, setting an even pace towards the distant light, footsteps muffled by what appears to be sand on the ground.