[ M ] [aw] Bittersweet.

tw for mentions of abuse

A year.

That was the amount of time Dadga had tasted freedom. A year he was released from his shackles, a simple year that he was able to enjoy the fresh crisp air, and the sounds of the freedom around him. This did not come without consequence, of course, and he was sure in the remainder of his life he would be remembered, hunted, pinned for the crime he had to commit for his own life. He was a prisoner to woman some time ago, and not the type that many would swoon. They only required one thing from him that, as a man, he was not willing to give.

When he did not give, they would take.

There was a brewing hatred in him, he could not deny, but for all that Dagda was he still somehow did his best to see past what they were in means of not projecting onto the next he met. They were not all the same. A reminder he constantly had to pep talk himself into, though when approached or touched by woman he still could not hold back the involuntary reflex of his muscles yearning to run.

Here, in Perth, in the place he made his home he felt safe. Silenced away from the world by the thick of the brush and left to enjoy the gentle sounds of the flowing rivers that tucked between mossy grass.

code by claerie

Keres Another close match, another moment in which her life was held together by frayed threads of luck. Keres was losing, just like before, but she still was the last one standing. What should she expect though when all of her opponents had been almost two-thirds larger than her? Towering, hulking masses that could crush her by body weight alone if she wasn't careful. She needed to first tire them out, keep them moving to get an edge, keep striking weaknesses.. A haggard limp subdued her gait, her body leaning to where she had to freeze to center herself. She needed to rest, her body reprimanded, but with a indignant huff she kept going. It was too open here even among the trees and thick brush of Perth's forest. The scum of the Playground, the soldiers, they could all easily find her if she didn't keep going. Keep moving. Making her way through, the small woman caught a trace of a scent nearby. Recent, fresh, settled into the soil. A resident... she was encroaching on their area. Ears swiveled atop her head, attempting to gauge if they were in hearing distance before she called out in warning. just passing through - don't mind me. The last thing she needed right now was an irate local getting in her face about moving too close to their dens. @Dagda

table by rae - image on pexels