#tera.start

 River was use to the training by now. Earlier morning weren’t normally difficult for her to navigate and the trek to Sky Cliff was never longer than a thirty-minutes or so. Then why was she so tired? The second in command had stayed up most of the night coming up with the plan for Remembrance day- invitation extended to all Outlanders to attend in peace. 

Did Emerson even know what peace is?

It felt like a trap, but it was also an opportunity. There were things that they left behind. Hidden away by her father that they would need. River knew Tera like the back of her hand. Probably knew it better then most the plan would work— or at least she hoped that it would . God please let it work. Rolling her shoulders back she looked up at the cliffs suspended in the air above them. 

“ I will never get tired of seeing this place.” a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips as she looked to the person next to her.  “ But tell me again whose bright idea it was to make the sky cliffs are main training grounds?” 

Rory had lost track of the days, but for however long he had been there it had felt like an eternity.  The only thing distracting him from mind-numbing boredom was being sick with concern for his family and the other Outlanders. He hadn’t heard anything about what it was like out there and his mind had concocted a million worst-case scenarios that kept him awake at night. On top of all this, he hadn’t the faintest clue as to what they intended to do with him and River, or how long they would keep them here in Teran custody. 

Hearing footsteps, Rory stood from his cot and walked to the edge of his confinement. “Come on, somebody here has to tell us something.” He pleaded, his face twisted with worry. He doubted that whoever it was had come to release them but he’d take any kind of information they could offer him about their plight. “I need to get back to my family. I need to make sure they’re okay. Could you- Can you at least send a message?” 

She leaned over to open the lower oven door and used a towel to pull out a fresh batch of pastries. She was actually glad the place was open for business, as this latest batch was something she’d been experimenting with and she was ready for public feedback. After assembling them on a large plate in an attractive manner, she headed out to the front of the shop. 

“Excuse me, who wants a free pastry... with a secret ingredient?” she asked out to the small group of customers that had gathered near the counter, most either waiting to order or waiting on the coffee they’d just paid for. 

This was a day of mourning for many, but for Noel it was a day of celebration. He didn’t actually believe that the Outlanders had set those horrible creatures after them on purpose, based on the fact that they had potentially suffered from the attack worse than those from Tera had. While the consequences of the attack were undoubtedly devastating for both sides, Tera had superior resources to recuperate their losses. Despite disbelieving that the Outlanders had caused this, Noel was still grateful that other Terrans were finally thinking of the rebellion as being hostile to their way of life. Defectors didn’t deserve their tolerance or help.

Hunched over a cleared plate at De Luca’s bar, Noel reached for the drink that the bartender had poured for him. He was physically sore from being partially trampled and thrown around during the attack, the palm of his hand covered in angry red marks that he pressed against the cool of the glass. He lifted the drink and tipped his head back to down the contents of it, his face twisting in disgust like he’d just bitten into a spoiled lemon. “Oh god, that is not- that’s not my order.” He shook his head with antipathy, setting the glass on the bar and shoving it towards his neighbor without bothering to apologize. “I think that must’ve been yours.” 

     extraction,  while  incredibly  fascinating  &  captivating,  was  very  difficult  to  do.   STEADY  HANDS.   a  requirement  by  the  very  nature  of  the  art,  is  something  that  is  either  taught  with  great  repetition  or  genetic.   if  you  asked  lukas,  he  wouldn’t  provide  a  definitive  reason  as  to  why  his  hands  don’t  shake  like  they  once  did  back  on  earth.   he  didn’t  get  his  expertise  from  his  father,  that’s  for  sure.   if  there’s  one  thing  he  did  get  from  him,  it  was  the  ability  to  trigger  a  fight  or  flight  response  quite  quickly   (  fight  was  his  preferred  option  ). 

     he’d  been  an  outlander  for  quite  some  time  now,  but  everything  he’s  done  has  been  self - taught.   his  research  is  still  his  &  he’s  very  weary  of  exposing  his  own  discoveries,  but  he  still  uses  them  for  good.   the  vial  in  his  hand  stays  secure  between  his  index  finger  and  thumb,  eyes  scanning  the  small  sample  of  water  from  the  lagoon  as  he  sits  near  the  edge  of  it.   the  science  behind  the  healing  abilities  of  the  water  is  still yet  to  be  uncovered,  but  lukas  would  be  lying  if  he  said  he  didn’t  like  a  little  bit  of  a  mystery.   eyebrow  lifts  just  as  someone  else  enters  the  area,  hand  soon  showing  off  the  small  bit  of  the  lagoon  entrapped  in  glass.     “   thirsty  ?   ”     a  joke,  it  is.   that’s  obvious  from  the  grin  painted  across  his  features  as  the  male  stood  up.     “   i’ll  never  get  over  how  fuckin’  cool  this  place  is.   ”

Ten licked his lips as his nails tapped against the thick glass that sat in front of him. The cup was empty and he had been waiting for at least ten minutes for the bartender to venture his way. Ten was growing awfully impatient, his eyes darting between the other customers in the tavern and the bartenders that were serving them. 

He let out a low hum as he watched more people enter the tavern and sit near him. “Don’t think about ordering anything next.” His voice was stern; it was close to a sneer. “I’ve been waiting for a refill for way too long. You can wait too.” Ten said as he wrapped his fingers around the empty glass and slid it down towards the bartender to try to get their attention. 

Location: Mt. Lumina. Side: Outlands. Open for: All Outlanders

The thing that separates Mount Lumina from everywhere else that Splint finds himself lost in, is exactly that. He can get lost – the Sky Cliffs are a little too known now, most crevasses climbed; busy with those training to slip through without having to engage in the usual banterful and aggravating conversation that he lives for. Arcadia’s busy, lively – like there’s something a little more than grey clouds overhead that they’re hiding; not their fault, his more than theirs. Practically blameless is the citizens when it’s not their directive to act and protect to the same degree those who had jobs that day were – Splint wonders what Rory and River are thinking of them now.

Boots scratch the dusty floor between uneven openings of Lumina, Flint’s trying to recall his steps as he makes them – so he can find his way out again, crawls into small openings, ducks and dives under the more jagged of edges as streams of light don’t quite make all that’s ahead visible. He’s caught his bow on a couple rocks already, has to manoeuvre to compensate for it and his quiver strapped to his backside because he simply refused to leave it behind. There’s this rumbling he’s sure he can hear, shakes the cliffs under his hand as the chalky outer layer of Lumina brushes off on his palms and leaves them an off shade of orange – reminds him of some kind of sandstone; at least busies his mind from everything else.

Until that rumbling loudens beyond the point of ignorance.

Comes at him fast as he clambers over a dusty rock and hears it levelling off above him.

Landslide – or at least, a weakened part of the Mount coming down. Instincts kick in, he dives forward along the thin lane, rolls without thinking of how much momentum he’s given and hears the crashing of shattering rocks behind him – a sharp pain that nicks at the back of his calf when he spins around to see the damage. Hopes its not enough to block off his route.

But he sees a figuration first.

“Hey – move!” Shit. Lurches forward like he’s some goddamn hero who won’t feel the pain of crumbling rocks if they hit him, Splinter collides with something – whether it’s the person, he’s got no idea, but there’s no agony, yet.

Apollo hits the ground, grunts at the force, one arm above his head as though trying to stop the any major damages before he assesses the situation. He’s still calling out: “Are you blind? – I mean, OK, but –” he’s stammering because he’s panting; rise in adrenaline where he’s gradually realising the ranger might have to come up with a new exit strategy from the Lumina. Doesn’t even think about how he’s still practically on the floor himself. “Are you OK, is what I mean,”