#newfoundedcourage

Sleep was not something all that familiar really. Whilst it was mandatory for humans to rest and dream during their slumber, Gerwyn laid awake unable to drift off into anything past a light snooze. He was a guardian after all and what good were his eyes if they were closed? But the night was unkind to plant life and he grew exhausted too quickly, usually settling into the bowed branches of trees to remain safe as opposed to lying out in the open as his daytime self would have preferred. However, Hive City had changed him.

He still did not need to sleep, but instead he found that closing his eyes and resting was a good way to keep a grip on his dwindling magic, that by resting he could focus and calm down all at once. And so he sought after a good place to go about his mock-sleeping, almost desperate to find somewhere warm and comfortable, preferably with some grass nearby, if only to remind him of home. He travelled across the sectors and his feet grew tired and bruised, golden bursts of honey-like blood trailing behind him for he had yet to buy any shoes ( or clothes, for he walked about in merely a gown ) causing him to hiss as he went.

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —        ✘ = hugging them + Δ = playing with their hair + = kissing them 

       Even after the year that he remained captive, Thorin still found himself startled by the idea of comfort. It was something unobtainable for so long, disappearing behind long days in the forge and longer nights ensuring that his people, the refugees who still turned to him as their King, received the best they could in the Blue Mountains.

        A warm bed, and gentle fingers carding through his hair as he woke--- those were hardly things that Thorin was used to. Especially the latter. Once he would have hated the idea of anyone other than his kin touching his hair (and even then, he had been rightly hesitant in letting his sister have her embarrassing way with it), but he had found that when it was Bilbo’s hands, it was surprisingly soothing. 

        His eyes blinked open to see the familiar face of his Burglar. It took a few more moments for the last vestiges of sleep to leave his mind, and it was then that he noticed the almost strange look on Bilbo’s face. While not frequent, it was a look that he noticed the hobbit wearing every now and again. A look that he couldn’t understand.

       ”What is it?” He asked with a tilt of his head in Bilbo’s direction, meeting his eyes. Instead of receiving an answer, Thorin instead received a small shake of the hobbit’s head--- but it was the kiss that was pressed to this lips that placated Thorin.

        An arm automatically moved to wrap around Bilbo’s back, tugging the smaller creature closer to him. To once have everything, his forefathers, his kingdom, ripped away from him and to have this now--- of course, there was a quest to complete that Thorin would never be content being left unfinished. Still, this was a small blessing that he would have never dreamt, and one that he would forever be grateful for.

     Word amongst the syndicate had brought interest to the woman whom bore charcoal coloured hair, something she had not foreseen coming from the smaller of the members that the man known as Roman had come to compile. Useful, albeit what complete prowess the minuscule hobbit retained was beyond the knowledge of the villainess indeed. Something she could find little concern for in this current time, instead her focus being that of another talent that he is rumoured to have; one she can undoubtedly make use of during her unfortunate stay.

     Thievery, however, was a skill one of her more trusted members knew well.

     Even so, it would not harm to have another who could do just as well, compelling the half-maiden so to call a meeting betwixt her and the one in question. For information, something vital to the plans which she seeks to deploy come the most opportune time for herself. And, it is with that which she stands tall above the older male, arms hidden behind her back as she steps a mere few feet forward whilst glancing down.

   Most might assume that she lived here considering the amount of time she spent wondering around sector six, going about her business. But she simply feels more at ease here, where things were green and growing, where the city actually felt alive even if it truly wasn’t. It’s also where she’s been working on a little project, something to keep her mind occupied. Within the park she’s got a large board with paper taped onto it on the grass and several buckets of paint, painting a sign of some kind. Although perhaps today wasn’t the best day to be doing such things as it was rather windy, despite how sunny it was. Her concerns on the matter prove to be on point as a particularly large gust partially tears the paper from the board, sending half of it blowing up and smacking someone in the face.

    The paint was still wet as well, so not only did they just get a face full of paper but paint too...bright pink paint.

       Other than to accompany his hobbit, Thorin had absolutely no interest in attending a ball. Stripped of his weapons and being forced to navigate through seas of people, some who towered over him, wasn’t exactly what he would consider to be a good time. Nonetheless.

        “I do not see the appeal,” he had grumbled when they first walked in, and it was a statement that still rung true as Thorin watched from his spot at the bar as Bilbo flitted about, greeting the many more acquaintances that he had compared to the dwarf.

IF he wished to regain what was lost, Kylo Ren needed to know more about the city. Throwing fits of rage could only get him so far, especially with pointless weapons and a very limited connection to the Force. He needed more information; inner workings, designs... anything. That said, without The First Order to do his digging for him, Ren had to do all the grunt work himself. It did not help that the city’s technology proved to be erratic. Primitive and simple and yet, at times, frustratingly difficult to handle.

SO the robed knight found himself wandering a certain Sector that he would not have thought to exist in a city such as this. It was green, most of it, and quite peaceful compared to the hustle and bustle of the main sectors. His black, hooded figure stuck out like a sore thumb, but it did not deter him, nor did he care in the first place. But despite the serenity of it all, Ren felt something. 

THROUGH the Force, he heard it. Barely a whisper, but whatever this thing was made the air around the Force-sensitive individual thick with pure malice. Before he knew it, his body moved on its own...

      The words did come at a slight surprise to Thorin despite him knowing very well of the hobbit’s sweet tongue. He was usually the one showering Bilbo with words of love, if only to relish in the endearing stutter and reddening of the creature’s ears. (That, there was still part of Thorin that compelled him to make up for the harshness of his judgement upon their meeting, to take back any hurt he had caused with his pride.)

       "Hourly may be a touch excessive, my dear hobbit, even though you know I would tell you of my love every moment I could.” Dwarves were private creatures, hiding from the world even their real names. It was only natural that Thorin would prefer to keep his affection for Bilbo behind closed doors, away from prying eyes that would linger too long on the beautiful creature that he could call his.

     Not a single word fell from his lips, dark eyes instead narrowing as he inspected the hobbit. Already having rudely stopped the poor fellow in his tracks, the Joker slowly circled around him, gaze more cruel -- teasing -- than it was predatory.