A * BOSS

   He shuffles about unfamiliar streets like a sleepwalker, confined to a baffling dream he can’t pinch himself awake from. He’s disoriented, lost, and he wonders if this is how refugees from those outer walls felt, when their lives got uprooted. Did his family have to pack up and leave as well? Did they make it? Do they know what happened to their eldest son...?

   Conjuring images of worst possible outcomes, Auruo stops mid-stride and rubs hard at his temples. He supposes he should count himself lucky, spirited away from a world where new tragedy bloomed with each sunrise, but all he can think of is what he left behind... Another capable blade, shattered.

   Looking up suddenly, he spies a bright-haired girl staring at him with an expression as mournful as his thoughts, almost as if she’d heard him speak them aloud. Had be been talking to himself? Auruo’s expression sours. He averts his eyes, cheeks coloring despite his clouded brow.

“What’re you lookin’ at, brat? Somethin’ on my face?”

anguis-novum:

aretiacs:

“Ahh, an imposter.” he teases, nose crinkling in a mock-sneer. “Not like you would’ve stood out much, though -- I mean, as a writer I’m sure y’ could bullshit with the best of ‘em, right?” auruo sits back, laughing under his breath, shaking his head at the memories. it seems the cloud of nostalgia had enveloped them both. it’s kind of pleasant, a little intimate. his eyes flicker back toward her face and he catches her with a soft look in her eyes. auruo purses his lips

“See, you’re doin’ it now. Well-- not bullshitting a’ course.” smooth move, bossard. he waggles a hand hastily, “Bein’ a regular wordsmith. You ain’t shy about it either. I can see why you fit in -- it ain’t so surprising you’d fit in.”

he looks at her, and suddenly theres a twinge in his brow, like something he’d said had overstayed its welcome. this is -- what -- his second time meeting her? talking to her? auruo takes a quick sip of his coffee and smiles anxiously against the rim. what is he doing, pretending like he knows her inside and out?

|| IM RLY PUMPED TO START WRITING AS AURUO “motherfucking” BOSSARD SO LIKE FOR A STARTER Y’ALL

capping at 4? castmates are the exception ;))))

Whatever new fresh hell this was, it was a far cry better than the old stale hell he’d been unceremoniously ripped from. 

Well. Almost better.

Auruo Bossard wakes screaming, back arching over a chrome table, limbs bent and taut like a dying insect. He’d died like an insect -- swatted straight out of the air and-- Wait, what?

He stops screaming, but they push at his lungs until his breath gets ragged. Hyperventilating, Auruo flails a shaking hand and feels beneath himself, at his back, his spine. It’s...intact? 

He stares saucer-eyed at the ceiling. “What th’ fuck. What th’ fuck?” And then he’s up, scrabbling to his feet as his muscles pop. Where’s his squad? Where’s his captain? The brat? Petra??

|| howdy to anyone who still actually follows this blog! (to the 177 who do -- holy shit thank you???) i’m bringing this sonuvabitch back to life and repurposing it for a really neat panfandom rp group called citta alveare ! 

i’ll also be totally open to indie interaction!! but it goes w/o saying that i’m kinda restarting the timeline here. if we had a thread at some point that you’d like to continue, please let me know! if not, HI -- nice to see y’all again! i hope everyone’s been happy, healthy and well. it’s good to be back! 8)

[ text: freckles ] hey guess what

[ text: freckles ] u forgot ur scarf on the couch

[ text: freckles ] u better come claim responsibility for this. i already have a child i aint ready 4 this kind of commitment 

// prayer circle for everyone about to read cellostargalactica's fic about preggers petra........................................