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 crash and burn, open
Fareeha Amari
 Posted: Oct 8 2017, 02:02 PM
27 posts
32 years old
military guard captain
5'11" | 161 lbs
Fareeha Amari
ysa [she/her] is Offline

reveal to my soul that I'm perishable
Pharah takes the bad end of a sniper shot smirking because her rockets are already in the air, already targeted. She'll go down but she has no fear that this battle is over. She's fought worse, a lot worse -- some punk trying to figure out how to use a gun for the first time barely registers. It should scare her. It would have scared her a day ago. Will scare her tomorrow. Because she's in the middle of Kadath. She's where the people she's trying to protect live and if civilians are getting hold of high-powered guns and taking pot-shots at people on the street ...

It will scare her tomorrow. Right now, adrenaline drowns out her fear.

The Raptora can take a rocket to the chest, but a rifle shot drops her like a dead bird. It's big and bulky and the shot is well-placed enough that it snipes her out of the air with enough force to steal her breath. It clips her wings as she's slammed backward through the air. Tears sting her eyes but she fights through it, watches a rocket detonate on the sniper perch with three more only feet behind. A snapshot that confirms her kill before her back slams against a building and clouds her vision. She ricochets off it, down, down, and glass shatters around her. Dust, broken wood, the scrape of brick against metal and Pharah feels a little bit of the anxiety creeping back. She doesn't go far once she's through the street-facing window. She slams hard into the floor and listens to the building settle around her intrusion.

On her back, Fareeha swipes a hand against her head, propping her visor up. Comms in her ear. Target eliminated. She gives a short affirmative before her hand falls back onto the floor. Doesn't notice the metal hitting the floor is cushioned by a carpet. Listens to her own breathing, labored, and stares up into the ceiling fan until it makes her dizzy. It's only when she closes her eyes that she realizes what a fan and a carpeted floor means. Her eyes snap open.


Oh, no.

She's in someone's home.

She jerks her head to the side, feeling apologies rising in her throat even before she knows if there is anyone to give them too. "I'm so -- " Pharah clambers to her feet. The motion is heavy, slow, for all the armor she's wrapped in. She tries again, even if it is to an empty room. "I'm so sorry."

notes: this doesn't. have to be your home/apartment since she fucking destroyed it
Hatake Kakashi
 Posted: Oct 11 2017, 09:03 PM
2 posts
29 years old
Intelligence Agent
Hatake Kakashi
Herpderp [He/Him] is Offline


to an even better place
It was going to take some getting used to, Kakashi would be the first to admit that much.

Kadath was unique in many regards, none of them particularly comforting, and even after a full two weeks spent living there the man still found himself being surprised by new discoveries every day. Some of them were pleasant enough, comparatively tiny things such as the little devices being sold at shop stands of varying purpose, although the most impressive thus far had been those that allowed someone to speak unimpeded to another individual regardless of language. That, or the systems that other residents had already put in place to assist other new arrivals to the city, quite effectively at that - Kakashi had found himself with a job and a means to support himself within mere days of arrival. Other discoveries, however, were less welcome. The one thing that they all had in common, however, was that they were decidedly outside of his comfort zone.

Under ideal circumstances he would've liked to leave the place with the intent to return later - as interesting as Kadath was, it felt best experienced in small doses.

That, however, wasn't exactly an option, and one of the life lessons that he'd long ascribed to was that there wasn't much point in worrying about things you couldn't change. Instead, you did what you could, and while it was a far cry from home the small apartment he'd been set up with had become enough of a haven that the shinobi found a fair amount of his time being spent there, his sole place of relaxation during the days not spent working. Seated at a low table and with the soft creak of an overhead fan providing the only notable noise in the room, Kakashi's one exposed eye trails over from line to line on the documents laid there. Little more than public information on the city itself and those within it, but with understanding comes at least a small bit of comfort. Deep in thought, the noises outside the small room's window are equal parts unnoticed and ignored as merely part of the outside world beyond the confines of his current abode.

At least until the outside world decided to intrude, by force.

What happened next came so quickly that Kakashi wasn't entirely sure what had transpired beyond the fact that it had felt an awful lot like a bomb going off. A sudden, loud crashing and rumble of breaking brick and mortar, the flash of new light and the sensation of the floor under Kakashi shifting - a moment later, however, and the first thing that he couldn't help but make note of was that he hadn't stopped breathing, nor was he in pain. For the most part he had come through the ordeal relatively unharmed, although the same couldn't be said of the room. The street facing window was now flooding sunlight into the room, expanded into a rough hole over a meter across and the frame ripped free of the surrounding wall. The carpet had been dragged and ripped, and the table in front of Kakashi crushed and splintered under the individual that had been thrown into the apartment.

Namely one Fareeha Amari, one of the two current Guard captains.

Kakashi knew quite well who she was, as well as anyone in Kadath could be without personally meeting them - working in the Intelligence Division had its benefits when if you wanted to learn who else you might be working with. None of what he had read, though, explained what she was doing here. Single eye wide and momentarily still with shock, Kakashi's gaze slowly wandered across his newly acquired living space to take in the damage as Amari seems to regain her wits, struggling to get back up in spite of her armor.

"Understandably." Kakashi says weakly, the messy white hair overflowing past his headband ironically darkened slightly by the gray stone dust sent flying by Amari's entrance. Remaining where he'd been sitting, part of the shinobi's mind idly wonders what this means for the short term. Had this been his own place of residence? Irritation likely would've been the order of the day, but here and now the man can't help but find himself merely thankful that it was the table Amari had landed on, not him.

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