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Lunamaria Hawke
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Crusader LordMiro stood still for a second, the hot water hitting the sensitive spots of both the recent bruise and the slightly older scars. He leant against the wall, flexing his fingers. So far, all the wounds would in time, heal. But for how long would he be able to keep up this pace? He wasn't entirely keen on having more scars than actual adult people thrice his age, and if Vincent was anything to go by, he would be a crippled, brain addled mess by his forties.
Clenching his teeth, the images of Olga being gunned down came back to his mind. Yes, he would become a cripple, but Olga had even been denied the right to become an adult. What had become of the world, when girls were fated to suffer even before they were adults?
Silently, he dried himself with a towel and dressed up, before heading back to the gymnasium area. Searching with his gaze right and forth, he concluded that two of the girls had left already, leaving just Bea sulking about, seated with a pouty expression.
"Miro." The girl said. "Those stupid two NARVA bullies told me i was all talk and no action."
"I'm not taking sides." The young man gruffly said. Frankly, he was only mild aware that there were two factions among the survivors , one that emphasided action, and the other intelligence. Miro saw both as important facets of the same struggle.
"They ditched me. I think they were jealous I found you first." Bea drew circles with her finger on the ground.
"They will be back, Bea." Miro said.
"I KNOW! But I need to go somewhere before that, and I would rather need more people with me-pfh" Bea's rant was cut short with the swift motion of Miro's arm, which shoved a white helmet on top of the girl, before turning to put his own. With an additional movement, he uncovered the motorbike from underneath the blanket.
No more words were exchanged.
@Cherry_ShieldNew York Midtown: POLTAVA Forward Base
The trip had been fast, and thankfully uneventful. Thanks to the encyclopedic knowledge of New York streets that Bea somehow had gained, Miroslav managed to reach this particular base without much issues.
"Beatrix Wisechild. What is the meaning of this?" said a guard of the many who was warily aiming a gun at Miro. He had been surrounded by no less than half a dozen. "Why did you bring a male stranger into this base? You will compromise everything!" said the guard.
"He's the guy!The one I talked about! The Thinker has to see him!" the juniour furiosly protested, as Miro was lazily lifting his arms for the second time this day.
Clenching his teeth, the images of Olga being gunned down came back to his mind. Yes, he would become a cripple, but Olga had even been denied the right to become an adult. What had become of the world, when girls were fated to suffer even before they were adults?
Silently, he dried himself with a towel and dressed up, before heading back to the gymnasium area. Searching with his gaze right and forth, he concluded that two of the girls had left already, leaving just Bea sulking about, seated with a pouty expression.
"Miro." The girl said. "Those stupid two NARVA bullies told me i was all talk and no action."
"I'm not taking sides." The young man gruffly said. Frankly, he was only mild aware that there were two factions among the survivors , one that emphasided action, and the other intelligence. Miro saw both as important facets of the same struggle.
"They ditched me. I think they were jealous I found you first." Bea drew circles with her finger on the ground.
"They will be back, Bea." Miro said.
"I KNOW! But I need to go somewhere before that, and I would rather need more people with me-pfh" Bea's rant was cut short with the swift motion of Miro's arm, which shoved a white helmet on top of the girl, before turning to put his own. With an additional movement, he uncovered the motorbike from underneath the blanket.
No more words were exchanged.
@Cherry_ShieldNew York Midtown: POLTAVA Forward Base
The trip had been fast, and thankfully uneventful. Thanks to the encyclopedic knowledge of New York streets that Bea somehow had gained, Miroslav managed to reach this particular base without much issues.
"Beatrix Wisechild. What is the meaning of this?" said a guard of the many who was warily aiming a gun at Miro. He had been surrounded by no less than half a dozen. "Why did you bring a male stranger into this base? You will compromise everything!" said the guard.
"He's the guy!The one I talked about! The Thinker has to see him!" the juniour furiosly protested, as Miro was lazily lifting his arms for the second time this day.
