splinterapollo

[splinterapollo]

galcsis​:

athena ✗ splint.

she  doesn’t  argue,  not  because  she  agrees.  but  because,  she  knows  if  splinter  had  any  idea  how  often  she’d  come  out  here,  or  any  clue  of  the  choices  she’d  made—-  athena  would  never  hear  the  end  of  it.  silence  was  her  friend  for  now,  not  everything  needed  to  be  shared.  besides,  splinter  worries  enough  about  everyone  else,  there’s  not  good  enough  reason  at  hand  for  athena  to  worry  his  mind  worse.  the  look  he’s  giving  her  now  is  confirmation  enough  of  that.

“  more  than  hostile?  ’  she  questions,  turning  towards  him,  one  brow  cocked.  “  what  would  that  entail?  ’  her  curiosity  catching  the  best  of  her  a  normal  feat.

even  with  his  threats,  if  there  is  one  person  athena  trusts,  and  now  there  is,  only  one.  it’s  splint.  a  lifeline  in  ways  that  athena  is  sure  not  even  he  knows.  so,  despite  her  obvious  love  for  the  solidarity  of  these  woods,  despite  the  connection  she  can’t  shake,  she’d  leave  if  he  asked  her  too.  “  hm?  ’  a  soft  hum,  a  loud  thought.  that’s  awfully  vague  splint.  

“  oh.  ’  chuckling  softly  as  she  shrugged.  “  didn’t  i  already?  ’  though  it  may  not  have  been  the  truth  in  its  entirety,  it  was  still  true.  “  i  like  the  challenge  in  practicing  out  here.  it  strengthens  me.  ’  a  smile  handing  from  her  lips  as  she  casually  tossed  her  arm  around  his  shoulders.  a  little  short  to  do  so,  maybe,  but  that  hadn’t  stopped  her  before.  “  and  what  do  i  have  to  do  for  you  to  tell  me  why  you  were  out  here  alone,  hm?  ’

-

“Yeah, I’ll have you pinned to one of these trees before you can even draw, Thena,” he calls back – and it’s not provocative, despite the smirk; not in any means that is more than the narcissistic threat of how fast he can fire arrows off that could pin her like a doll against the bark. It’s a disservice to the point he’s making, but it’s a point nonetheless and they both know he’s not going to harm her no matter the rebelliousness of her actions. Splint knows they shouldn’t be in the woods – alone and without much provisions beyond their bows (and whilst he knows he’s good, he’s not exactly untouchable.) it leaves them fairly exposed.

He’s even surprised to get an answer – trusts that it comes across as truthful. Apollo hopes Athena wouldn’t lie to him in any circumstance and her laughing is encouragement enough that she isn’t pushing the edges of their friendship. Besides, it sounds like something she’d do.

“Challenge how?” he inquires, shakes his head like he’s ignorant to the added tension that comes with the territory; understands to a degree her desire to put a new level on her training but this isn’t how Splinter would choose to take it. Not on your own, Theens. C’mon. The ranger tries to add a less hostile (though, really it’s concern) jab when he feels her arms come around his shoulders – she’s warm: “Still not stronger than yours truly though, huh?” playful again, hand lifting up to snag her wrist and like he’s forgotten where they are, he’s bent his legs and thrown her forwards – right over his head to land at his feet below him with a quiet grunt at one-handed action.

Splinter doesn’t withhold the answer behind his smile – though his eyes read a little more worried despite their usual glint: “I thought I saw something,” which, in Apollo translation means: There was something out here. Because he never likes to think his vision falters.

Prompted by his own thoughts, he presses for them to leave again: “Come on, stop lounging around, we should go,”

[splinterapollo]

galcsis​:

nicola ✗ splinter.

nicola  can  hardly  remember  the  last  time  she  saw  splinter.  she’s  only  sure  it  had  different  implications  then  this  visit  had.  seeing  him  at  all  brought  a  smile  to  her  face,  though  tonights  faltered  a  bit—-  her  mind  unable  to  shake  the  eery  feeling.  she  still  wasn’t  exactly  sure  why  splinter  wanted  to  meet  tonight.  she  just  knew  it  wasn’t  solely  for  their  own  entertainment.  the  urgency  in  his  tone  giving  that  away.

nic  ;  even  without  he  smile  and  playful  mischief  in  his  eyes,  she  loves  the  way  it  sounds  coming  from  him.  tries  not  to  dwell  on  how  much  she  misses  the  company  of  the  certain  outlanders  that  left  them.  her  sister  of  course,  and  splint.

she  doesn’t  offer  a  verbal  response,  her  voice  seemingly  lost  behind  the  itching  curiosity  of  what  the  hell  are  you  getting  us  into?  so  instead,  she  offers  a  smile,  a  practiced  one,  the  bag  she’d  been  carrying  over  her  shoulder  sliding  off  and  into  her  hands  grasp  before  she  offers  it  to  him.  “  you’ll  need  these.  ’

there’s  a  soft  chuckle  that  slips  from  her  lips  as  he  finally  takes  the  step  to  break  whatever  tension  seemed  to  be  there  between  the  pair.  there  was  no  real  rhyme  or  reason  for  it—-  a  part  from  the  obvious  of  course.  still,  for  nicola,  she  knows  it’s  merely  irrational  fears,  or,  at  the  very  least,  she  knows  that  what  their  fighting  for,  it’s  worth  everything  she’d  have  to  risk.  even  if  it  weren’t,  she  knew  river  would  risk  everything  for  her,  it  was  what  family  did.

issues?  she  could  consider  the  wrath  that  finley  would  most  definitely  throw  at  her  an  issue,  but  it  wasn’t,  not  for  them.  he’d  be  mad,  sure,  but  he’d  also  get  over  it.  he’d  understand  that  this  was  more  important.  he  had  too.  she  doesn’t  feel  like  stressing  splinter  out  with  those  minor  details  is  necessary,  so  she  doesn’t  offer  them,  keeps  it  simple  for  him.  “  no  issues.  ’  not  that  they  couldn’t  run  into  them.  tonight  gave  them  two  very  real  possibilities.  the  chaos  of  the  storm  might  just  provide  them  enough  distraction  to  actually  succeed,  or,  they  could  walk  right  into  the  grasp  of  the  sentinels.

“  we  have  to  make  a  stop  first.  ’  she  doesn’t  look  at  him.  knows  without  whatever  look  he’s  likely  giving  her,  he  won’t  like  what  she’s  saying,  won’t  want  to  agree,  but  her  reasoning  is  right.  “  just  hear  me  out,  okay?  ’

she’s  looking  at  him  now,  taking  a  step  forward  and  dropping  her  voice,  as  if  anyone  was  around  to  hear  them.  “  we  have  to  go  to  my  fathers  shop.  we  have  to  wipe  it  clean.  ’  it’s  not  a  request,  but  it’s  not  a  demand  either.  nicola’s  still  pleading  for  him  to  agree  though,  even  without  the  please.  “  river  will  be  there,  i  promise.  ’

-

In this moment, Splinter cannot afford to be distracted. There remains to be a smile tugging at his lips, but it’s tighter than usual, product of concern that invades him and reminds him how lines are being crossed – potential trust is being broken with his silence; going over his people’s heads because he doesn’t think they’d understand his method; that he remains in contact with those within – specifically, Nic. And he wishes the circumstances were different.

Doesn’t want to admit that he’s dragging her into this and how wrong it could go.

So he delays it for as long as he can – doesn’t take the bag she offers and instead, reaches out to wrap fingers around her wrist, it’s soft; delicate where he usually isn’t equipped for it. But Flint can’t stop the selfish streak that snaps back at the viper of concern within him. He pulls her closer, regardless of where his heads supposed to be focussing; he needs to get it out his system, early – before it becomes a problem later. “Nic,” again, hand running up the length of her arm to wrap around the crook of her collar and neck, prepares himself to get them both on the same level of understanding; the situation at hand.

As if she doesn’t already know.

“If anything happens, you run,” Splinter isn’t there to argue it; won’t let her take any falls for his bullshit of a plan that risks only himself and Nicola, even if in his mind he thinks that no matter what happens, one of them could get out undetected if the other takes the heat. Apollo’s never going to let it be Balish, he’ll handle Tera’s security in whatever way is required and if that means he has to go down with it, at the very least, he hopes it’ll be with both Balish’s and the captured returned – them more required than he himself is.

Backing up is made even more impossible when she chuckles, the vibrations against his fingers encourages the smile that’s been tight to slip into one that’s a little bit more reflective of the ranger’s natural form. He leaves only a second of hesitation when she confirms no issues, a nod follows and that at least, is something in the grand scheme of risks; one less thing to worry over.

“Wh—” but he cuts off when she begs the: just hear me out, okay?

He does, as he always does.

Splinter doesn’t much like it – the pit stop at the labs that seem to haunt him; even knows – or used to, the scheduling of the sentinels patrols, (though, it’s been a while.) and that it’s unlikely to be left unguarded for too long. Flint, sometimes, hates how he keeps a hold of his mother’s teachings – or little notions of things picked up when being a pest in the walls of the labs, because he therefore recognises that Nic’s right and his tinkered method of communication could cost them if they didn’t wipe it.

Shit, Nic. It’s a risk. And they don’t have much other choice than to take it. He doesn’t even notice that his hand has slipped around to the back of her neck, drawn her closer when she herself has decreased the distance. “We make it fast, Nicola,” that’s the slip of agreement to her continued pleading – knows him far too well; how he very much could have argued a reason against the additional stop. “We’re not leaving without them and I’m not prepared to have that be what costs us – costs them,” it all feels different; their exchanges so professional, without the humour that’s usually so prominent and has them laughing like the world is theirs.

But not now – it’s far from, it’s a snake coiling around a bird that could pluck out its eyes and run, or let itself be devoured in a slow, agonising sitting. Splinter doesn’t want to admit he’s the viper – can’t think like that when he knows all the risks, has calculated them like every shot fired from his bow, meticulous; too good to ever miss.

Doesn’t want it to be the second careless shot he’s ever taken – the first terrorises his mind enough already.  

[splinterapollo]

delvedinto​:

SPLINTER ✘ HELENA​:

“Then, you’ve met your fair match.” She grinned, she was pretty much the unknown to others. Of course, people knew who she was but not what she was about. Her personality was different to most, it had changed over the past month or so and she was growing colder towards human interaction. Everything caused her to roll her eyes, snide comments were effortlessly rolling off her tongue and her look held daggers in them. It was surprising how Helena hadn’t exploded at the constant back and forth but if she was honest with him, and herself, she more than enjoyed the debacle. Excitement reigned in as she awaited his next comment, then the next and so on. Intrigued to know whether he’d actually come out with anything which genuinely left her speechless or deeply flustered. Their back and forth was one she enjoyed compared to the other she was battling but that story would come later. 

Her tongue clicked as she watched him pause mid sentence when he realised she had somehow taken the words straight from his mind. Him closing the distance was only greeted with a smirk, there was no step back or warning look fired. She was calm, comfortable and still managing to somehow follow along and mirror his usual behaviour. “Think you’d be surprised with what this tongue can do.” She continued, gaze running over his whole physique while she took another step forward to bridge their distance. 

A sly yet satisfied grin graces her lips as she watches him double over in reaction to her previous attack. “C’mon, Flint. I know you can do better than that.” She mentioned, that was her effort at reassuring him and his ability. Probably the only reassurance he would gain throughout the whole combat session until his back hit the floor first. Close contact fighting was something which Helena took almost a year to perfect, her coordination had never been as good as it is now. Plus now she was able to predict her opponent’s next move, she was all about observation. The room was becoming increasingly warm, all of her was sweating with anticipation. Without much hesitation, she removed her top layer of gym wear and swiped her sweatband across her forward all while keeping a close eye on Flint. 

“Perhaps if you win, I might just use them for what you’re thinking.” She retaliated with a smirk. His hand makes contact with her shoulder but with light force, both hands lifting to block the rest of the force within the punch and she side-stepped around him. Soon tapping him on the shoulder in order to make him swivel to face her, still a large distance between them once again. 

This combat session seemed to be never-ending. 

-

Wouldn’t that be exciting? Silent, but easily read from the glint in mischievous eyes. A fair match; implies their equals and Splinter – despite his ego, can accept that. Though he doesn’t plan on saying that aloud when he still plans to drop Mathews on her ass. It feels like they’re dancing, something so practiced that the contact only comes when one of them performs a move out of sync. Flint’s finding every little opportunity to smile; her feeding into his ruses hadn’t been pre-planned. Didn’t know you had it in you H. “I think you’d have to show me for us to really determine if that’s true,” and the distance closes again and the heat of the two bodies becomes noticeable, the thin layer of exertion that trickles between fabrics an indicator that they’re still warming up.

Splint recovers from the jab, straightens at the same moment she offers her next jibe. She’s not wrong, the lazy exchange of blows is every tell that it’s not Apollo’s first choice of combat. But there’s a level of it he does possess, if only by the knowledge that he cannot always be comfortable at a distance; picking off targets with a single release of two fingers on a string.

Then clothes start coming off – and he wonders for a second if it’s some tact distract play.

“Are you teasing me now, Mathews?” Is that what you’ve opted for? Moments before his hand collides with her shoulder, hindered when Helena comes up late to block it. An agile twist that’s more graceful than Splinter ever is, head turns sideways, catches her in peripheries when she draws his attention. Carries through when his heel pivots to offer her the infamous smirk that seems to make an appearance at every given opportunity. Flint takes a breath – recomposes to let her make the next move in combat; seems that she’s been enjoying the defensive strikes opposed to being on the offence.

Splint can’t help but finally make a comment when his eyes find the woman’s physique again – “I’ve barely touched you, yet your clothes are coming off,” there’s no hiding the jeer and the underlying quip that comes with the playful taunt. He winks, lifts a hand in an act to ruse her forwards; close that empty space between them: “Should I be taking off mine already?”

And he’s so close to playing into his own jibe; nearly strips off in front of her as if to make a point. It’s sparring, Splinter, focus. The rational part of the man’s mind slips through to withhold the amusement in the session, doesn’t want to give off the impression he’s not taking it seriously – nor that there’s any doubt that Helena isn’t a worthy opponent; Apollo doesn’t doubt her capabilities.

Just that he’s sure she isn’t entirely focussed either.

And he’s simply waiting for that next move.

[splinterapollo]

galcsis​:

katana ✗ splinter.

you  need  someone  on  the  inside.

she’s  thought  it  herself  before,  so  she  can’t  do  anything  but  agree  with  him  now.  a  soft  scoff  and  quick  nod  of  her  head.  and  unspoken  i  know,  but,  “  it’s  a  little  late  for  that  now,  don’t  you  think?  ’  she’s  doesn’t  really  have  it  in  her,  to  share  in  their  regular  banter,  the  back  and  forth,  that,  although  she  doesn’t  say  it,  gives  her  more  normalcy  then  anything  else  about  this  life.  so,  it’s  only  natural  that  even  without  the  ability  to  properly  engage  in  it  herself,  a  part  of  her  is  dying  to  feel  even  just  a  hint  of  it.

but  then,  kat  knows  better  then  to  rely  on  others,  makes  it  her  mission  to  be  there  for  all  of  them,  but  never  allows  any  of  them  to  give  her  the  same  in  return.  river  was  close,  they  never  quite  got  there,  kat  can’t  ever  remember  anyone  that  did  ;  doesn’t  want  to  admit  that  part  of  her  is  scared  they  may  never  have  the  chance.

his  question  somehow  feels  like  a ��knife  to  the  gut,  but  she’s  spent  far  to  long  biting  her  tongue  to  say  what  she’s  really  thinking  right  now  ;  fuck  you,  flint.  doesn’t  mean  it,  so,  she  doesn’t  say  it,  but  she  feels  it  with  every  fiber  in  that  moment.  it’s  not  him,  a  reminder  she  hardly  need.  she’s  just  trying  to  silence  the  other  thoughts.  “  i  don’t  know  flint,  anything  you  haven’t  told  me  about  our  little  project?  because  right  now  that  is  our  best  bet  to  getting  her  out.  ’

-

Splinter’s trying to stop his mind from spinning his ideas on some out of control mental ferris wheel. Not sure if she’s read his thoughts through the windows of his eyes when he lets slip some internal considerations about how he might approach this; that everything he wants to do in order to get his friends back seems impossible. Like there’s nothing besides half-put together fantasies that even a witty man like Flint thinks is foolish. “Yeah, maybe,” it’s childish, truly, the kind of muttering that he gives back to her when he’s trying to negate his suggestion from her and himself. Splint’s possible outs runs rampant in the river-like indentations of his mind, neurons firing off potential about his possible ins that lie within the walls of Tera.

Though, in current standing, with the increase in security, it means his little trips to Nic’s bar aren’t all that sly anymore. He’s sure eyes would catch him, and he’d have to speak to Balish first – that’s possibly an even larger task; communications on the down low; alert her before he barrels in with arrows on some suicidal rescue mission because he can’t stay idle.

And in the back of his head, he’s hoping – praying, Katana does have some semblance of a plan he can act upon. Whether it’s a stretch or not, anything is better than nothing.

It’s shut down so fucking fast when she speaks again. 

I don’t know Flint.

The name. It’s more than face value, followed with some form of accusation that he’s a little more than just firing arrows needlessly at the edge of Arcadia. The project; his tinkering. Assistance based on his mother’s teachings – something like that (though, watching and bothering everyone in the lab is more accurate.) and the pinpricks of knowledge he has hasn’t done much to get them all that farther. Really, Splinter’s thinking it’s stupid that they came out with something so small when the losses were so large.

But being angry about that doesn’t change the result.

“You think I’m withholding things from you?” it’s abrupt, an accidental misfire of disbelief like before he’s even thought about how it’d look for him to go vigilante to a degree elsewhere. The Commander’s making jabs at him with something he’s actually genuine about. “Nice, Kat, real nice,” contains the frustration an ounce before it’s more than an arrow travelling through the air. He’s calmer – finds it in him to strap his equipment on his back again, murmuring loud enough to return fire on the verbal assault: “Essentially, you’re placing their lives on a box, that’s what you’re telling me?”

[splinterapollo]

alicequinn​:

Sweet. It’s like my own private telenovela.

Anyone in a room with Splinter for about thirty seconds. 

[splinterapollo]

medictm​:

splinterapollo​:

CAVE-IN

          the  heat  was  borderline  unbearable,   fleeing  outlanders  left  &  right  trying  to  find  a  speck  of  shade  to  keep  them  cool  from  harsh  rays.   lukas  was  no  different,  but  he  usually  spent  his  time  at  the  lagoon.   the  water  there  was  refreshing,  most  likely  due  to   the  healing  properties  within,  but  it’s  not  like  that  spot  was  undiscoverable  to  the  rest  of  arcadia.   word  of  the  waters  had  been  floating  around  for  weeks,  considering  the  watering  hole  was  completely  out  of  the  question  due  to  the  whole  remembrance  day  shenanigans  that  made  them  all  really  watch  their  backs.  ��what  was  once  a  safe  haven  for  him  became  a  popular  spot.   his  research  was  useless  if  groups  of  people  were  disrupting  it.   besides,  who  was  to  say  all  the  activity  didn’t  have  negative  effects  on  the  water  itself  ?   the  whole  situation  had  him  stressed,  tired,  &  hot,  so  he  went  to  the  only  place  he  wouldn’t  have  to  see  anyone  else.   surely,  with  how  much  of  a  labyrinth  the  mount  was,  he  wouldn’t  see  a  single  soul  seeking  refuge  from  the  sun.

          he  was  successful  thus  far,  backpack  tucked  safely  upon  his  shoulders  while  he  walked  without  purpose  around  the  caves.   it  was  cool,  he’d  give  it  that,  but  staying  there  beyond  nightfall  was  a  death  sentence.   if  the  rocks  were  cool  now,  they  were  about  to  be  natural  freezers  when  the  sun  disappeared.   anyone  stuck  inside  would  have  to  be  thawed  out  if  they  were  ever  found  again. 

          rocks  &  pebbles  crack  beneath  his  steps,  hands  reaching   out  to  brush  off  orange  dust  from  various  surfaces  as  his  exploration  remains  the  primary  focus  of  his  trip.   as  he’s  examining  a  slit  in  the  rocks,  lumina  rumbles.   it’s  a  deep,  eerie  noise  that’s  only  a  warning  for  what  was  to  come.   nature  made  a  lot  of  noises,  though,  so  lukas  doesn’t  think  much  of  it  the  first  time.   there’s  another  rumble  &  it  causes  his  body  to  turn.   the  sound  of  rocks  falling  &  crumbling  above,  below,  beside…   everywhere  around  him  ––  was  enough  to  scare  him  shitless.   he  wasn’t  about  to  be  buried  beneath  a  mountain  that  nobody  would  ever  find  him  in.     “   shit.   ”     the  male  murmured,  turning  once  again  to  go  back  the  way  he  came,  but  the  ceiling  caves  in  before  he’s  got  the  chance  to  make  it  through.   so  he’s  quick  on  his  feet,  running  the  opposite  way. 

          he  stops  only  when  he  reaches  crossroads,  two  paths  he’d  never  seen  before.   it  causes  him  to  stop  &  that  moment  was  the  most  dangerous  one  for  him  yet.   he  doesn’t  realize  the  sides  surrounding  him  were  crumbling  closer  &  closer  to  his  body…   until  !   he’s  on  the  ground  again  from  the  impact  of  something  heavy.   lukas  wasn’t  sure  if  it  was  a  body  or  a  rock  until  he’s  tumbling  into  the  wall  with a  jagged  edge  stabbing  into  his  side.     “   fuck  !   ”     hands  move  to  the  new  wound,  something  that  would  bruise  later  on,  before  he’s  coughing  from  kicked  up  dust.     “   what  the  fuck,  man  ?   ”     forearms  press  against  the  floor  before  he’s  lifting  himself  up  to  see  who  had  sent  him  spiraling  away  from  a  collapse.     “   yeah,  i’m…   ”     pain  surges,  but  lukas  just  sucks  in  a  sharp  inhale.     “   i’m  good.   are  you  ?   we  gotta  get  the  fuck  out  of  here.   ”   but  the  two  pathways  that  were  once  available  were  now  blocked  off  &  lukas’  shoulders  fall  with  disappointment.     “   thank  you,  though.   ” 

-

Splinter’s coughing; puffs of orange dust kicks up in front of him and there’s the briefest moment of shock that seems to be forced down in order to kick instincts into gear. The mount’s just crumbled, move. Boots drag along the same dusty floor, they skid – a grunt slips from the ranger’s lips as he’s pressing palms flat to the ground and forcing himself back up. He’s aware enough that he’s alive – fairly certain the body he’d barrelled into is too, based on the person-like sounds emitting from somewhere on his right hand side. 

Like it’s more important that his actual biological limbs, he rolls his shoulders from the position on his knees and feels the bow and quiver still strapped tight flush against his back – albeit, a little harsh dug into his spine in that moment.

Fuck. He’s got frantic eyes searching suddenly when his sense re-engage and shock passes, he’s ambled up, reaches out towards the person he’s just dived at, hears their voice to make the sounds of alive-ness a little more promising. “hey,” again – like Flint’s got every good intention to try and gain their attention in order to at least remove them from imminent danger.

He’s not sure if he’s hit his head and can’t shake out of it or if he’s hearing that rumble from above again. Doesn’t want to wait to find out.

Finally, recognition strikes – same moment Splinter tries to assess through the rise in adrenaline whether the man is hurt. He knows Lukas now he can see the face; sawbone, helpful in their situation, truly.

Knows more than Splint does about injury at least.

Probably should have expected some sort of backlash given the abruptness of Splinter’s actions only moments ago. Briefly glances down at his own arms, a sting of grazes adorning forearms, bubbles of blood speckling through the gashes; superficial. He’s in one piece, appears that Lukas might be too, hopefully. “Good,” prompt, like there’s no time to come up with anything charming when there’s a potential they could both get buried. As however spontaneous it might have been; the risk remains. Apollo’s not sure if there’s something on the top of Lumina that’s encouraging the downfall, but even for someone with a keen eye – he’s not pausing to look for too long.

He and Luk need to move.

“Didn’t mean to floor you,” he murmurs, (well, he did, but not with harmful intent) hues flickering over the man – notes the expression of pain that radiates through his features, smacks the man on the shoulder in a careless kind of check-in. “You sure you’re good?” half attentive now when Splint’s stumbling a step back, looking at the blocked exit with a frown. He fast works out that it’d take far too long to dig through it and even then, it’s not the most feasible of options when they’re in a rather unstable part of Lumina. The other direction; the narrow hole, points away from Arcadia and beyond a little uncharted judging by the shallowing path; cavernous routes that might end with them being buried inside the mountain.

Maybe the properties about Lumina misses out in its description about the murderous intent it has with those trawling its pathways.

How hard did you hit your head, Flint? He almost loses his own balance when he tries to walk, arm juts down to catch himself on the mountain’s side, looks down at his leg – ankle, with a frown; convinces himself it’s just a sprain. Walk it off, Ranger. Self-issued, and he’s busy ignoring that, to strategise the mess either side of them. Upwards; also, not the best of options – he’s not sure it wouldn’t come right down on them even if they were in a climbing state.

“Shit,” muttered to himself, Flint’s fingers flex – he’s thinking, looks back to the sawbone and then carries through to look at the unappealing last option pathway that involves some apparent caving into the mount itself.

“Don’t suppose you’ve,” wince, “got a flashlight, med?” Even if it’s one of those irritating little pocket lights that Splinter hates being shined in his eyes – like his vision might burn out with the invasiveness. He’s pretending that there’s not a slight limp in the way he crouches to assess the opening that appears to be their last resort – an expedition with no real direction. “And are particularly adept at navigating holes?” 

Smirk returns. But it’s brief that the humour is eaten fast with the cortisol swarming his bloodstream.

Splinter looks upwards, just once more. Frowns, jaw twitches with thought, looks at Lukas like he might chime in with something Apollo himself might have missed. Though, Flint would say he doesn’t miss anything, so sits on its unlikelihood.

[splinterapollo]

galcsis​:

closed  for  @splinterapollo​  during part ​one after she broke away from the group.

she’s  not  sure  what  she’s  thinking—-  or  maybe,  she  simply  isn’t.  it  wouldn’t  be  far  fetched  for  the  woman.  flint  being  someone  she  cares  for,  in  whatever  way  she  knows  to.  the  desperation  in  his  voice  was  really  all  she  needed  to  hear.  if  it  wasn’t  enough  that  she  couldn’t  help  her  sister,  not  in  the  way  she  wanted,  she  had  to  help  splinter,  if  she  could.  

she  knew  there  would  be  questions,  she  knew  finley  would  give  her  nothing  but  shit  for  disappearing  without  a  word.  assumed  it  wouldn’t  have  taken  him  much  though  to  guess  where  she  went,  or  who  she  was  looking  for.  truthfully,  she  had  a  lot  to  lose,  pulling  this,  sneaking  him  in,  and  after  last  time,  he  was  already  on  high  alert.  everyone  knew  of  the  traitors  that  breached  terran  walls.  of  course,  nicola  didn’t  see  it  like  that,  still,  none  of  that  would  matter  if  she  were  to  lose  the  last  living  relative  she  had,  and  she  couldn’t.

it  was  easy  enough  to  break  away  from  the  others,  when  everyone  was  so  focused  on  their  task  as  hand.  though,  the  gathering  of  the  water  had  turned  more  into  a  game  then  anything,  and  that  only  helped.  it  wasn’t  long  before  she  was  slipping  behind  a  familiar  corner,  one  she’d  met  him  at  before.  “  splinter?  ’  she  called  out  quietly  as  she  rounded  the  corner.  

-

There’s the briefest moment of regret, that second he gets a response from the other side – both a blessing for his technological ability that remains; passed down from his mother (all those times running his mouth down the labs corridors – arguing being a bowstring to Kade in a place of science apparently, does pay off.) back when she had been in Sev3n’s nanotech department; memory brief – yet still a curse in the way he’s automatically drawn Nicola into his near desperate plan to get results; to get River and Rory back to them. But he cannot tame the snake that teases to bite down on his chest; leak venom into his bloodstream and let that second deter him. He knows why he’s doing it – also knows that there’s a reason he cannot let Katana know he’s in contact with the inside, not when Splint doesn’t know how well that would fly.

And with a skill like his, Apollo likes to always know where shit’s flying – a whistle he has control of. That, and Splinter isn’t in favour of being told no.

Fingers are tight on the device, botched together with stolen pieces, shrapnel that offers him the capability to communicate with Nic through the robust walls of Tera. Connecting to ARTIE, as Flint knows, leaves tracks; a later issue to cover his device’s interruption in the labs within those walls only fleets across his vision for moment; River and Rory, first.

The tree he’s leant up against leaves a chalky substance on his back – a ochre-y powder that stains and leaves breadcrumbs on his whereabouts. He maintains the tinkered toy as actively as he can – keeps it like it’s an anchor that attached him to the Balish – one of them; as though it might have a knock on effect at finding the other.

Then he’s on route to the meeting point, as agreed; planned where usually Splinter’s rather improv. He wants this to work, even if his absence is noticed – Flint considers the consequences later, after they’ve successfully worked beneath the radar of his Commander to try get something more than just ambling around the Outlands with a sullen expression. Kat hadn’t had answers – solutions absent in the same kind of grief he shated and Splint’s not exactly the smartest with the strategy besides ‘I’ll be overwatch, nothing’s gonna touch you with my eyes in the sky’ 

A jeer; a usual cocky attitude about his own ability to strike arrows down overhead to watch ants fall to the sound of whistling.

Sometimes, in his own narcissistic way, he thinks he’s kind of like a God, raining fire down in the form of punishment; smite those unworthy. But that would mean he controls a little more than an arrow’s direction; that would imply he cares to be judge, jury and executioner before those arrows propel from fingers and land.

There’s certainly a difference between a target – a distraction, and a fatality.

His name is called, his head turns when he switches to alert again, a strange natural movement for his arm to reach back over his shoulder as if to draw from his quiver. Stops just as the feathers of an arrow touch his fingertips when he sees Nic – feels like an age since he’s seen her, since they’ve both worn expressions that aren’t smiles.

Long since the last circumstances where he’s elicited another sound from her that he quite enjoys. 

What it is now – a sorrow that’s masked with a severity that even in the usual mischievous and playful eyes of the Ranger, it’s replaced entirely with a game face. “Nic,” greeted, hand lowers from drawing a splint and lets his arm sit back at his side, there’s an urge to touch her – in a way that implies there’s something more than what they’re here for. Not lost is the thought of how dangerous this meeting has become since Tera upped their security, a lot more vigilant to those making the wall their playground.

Splinter doesn’t like that he did drag Nicola into it – but can’t let those fangs of the viper inside him pierce flesh, has to justify his brash actions that go against Kat as Nic will help, she will; it’s for me, it’s for River.

And here she is, in front of him – risking every danger.

In the end, he does reach out and nudge her; a useless act to lessen the tenseness in the air between them, carried like a blanket over their heads. “No issues?” it’s obvious what he’s implying; nobody saw you. Followed with a genuine glow that keeps him attentive; focusses on the plan at hand, finds that despite it all, Nic’s his in and the best shot he had on the solo adventure.

It’s the least amount of risk in regards to numbers. For that, better Katana is oblivious. One rogue Ranger on a potential suicide mission with an inside accomplice seems traitorous in some out of context conclusions – but it’s not disloyalty; it remains to be a desperation; a desire to act than to sit back and watch.

He’s done enough of waiting, Splint’s got his shot – draw, hold … this is the release. And Apollo can’t help himself; a reassurance that isn’t even that but instead a plead for his own encouragement to succeed:

“Let’s find them,” a beat, “And bring them home,”

[splinterapollo]

solarisxluna​:

š⊕lαrïšXšplïη†εr

splinterapollo​:

CAVE-IN

This was her alone place, her thinking place were her facade could drop, no one really came up here not when she was around anyway. She didn’t have to be Solaris the warrior, protector of anyone else up here she was solely responsible for herself and herself alone. It was a sort of a connection back to everything before when her parents were still around when they lived on earth. She would hike through the mountains of the various countries that she visited the orange dust emitted from this particular mountain reminded her of the Australian outback at time when she was careless, a time when she was free. 

Sol was so lost in her head that her usually attuned senses were not activated like normal, her mind was a battlefield ridden with corpses, a product of her ongoing war with the council. She thought of River of Rory, what did the council want with them. She thought of the council and their smug little faces, of how they promised to take more of their own if they were caught near or fraternising with a Terran. She thought of Kade, from the night of attack, something had changed in her shifted in her anger towards him, which confused her because he was supposed to be the enemy. The perpetual cycle of names as faces were spinning around so rapidly that she didn’t even comprehend what was happening around her until she felt something hit her hard and shoved her over and to the ground. Solaris only stared in disbelief. It was like her mind was paralysed, finally the cracks beginning to appear on the surface from the pressure it was under it wasn’t until he spoke that she snapped back to reality out of her trance like state.

“I…..ummm.” she was embarrassed, she hadn’t wanted anyone to see her like this she was meant to be strong a fighter least of all Splint.

She waited for the incoming joke for some smart ass remark about having to save her ass. But she didn’t feel up to the banter to be honest she didn’t know what she felt, but she hoped he didn’t notice how weak she had just shown herself to be.

-

Splinter hears the rumbling even after its over; the sound that shakes his mind out of the usual playful amusement; brings the Ranger into a state of concentration, similar kind to when he’s got a bowstring near pressed against his cheek. For a moment, the narrow strip between mountain walls are still shuddering where he’s breathing ragged breaths. Apollo’s barely got his bearings back before he’s making sure there’s no second wave of falling rocks to come down on him – on them, the person he’s suddenly aware he’s dived on to get out from beneath the landslide. He doesn’t think it’d be fatal (though maybe, even if the rocks are softer than most, it’s a lot of them), but easily considers the probable broken bones if beneath the rubble that’s now piled at his rear.

Flint’s eyes dart to the woman, on her back – as thrown off as he’d been as he clambers to his knees and tries to gear himself up to move them out of Lumina – or at least, part of the mountains more known; less crumbly and unsafe.

The grunt is another involuntary one, rolls his head heavenward to assess himself for strain, hand rubs over his face and he shuffles forwards towards Solaris, coughs out a mouthful of Lumina dust before he tries to see if the lack of words is a bad sign – or if its just shock:

“Solar– !” attempts to regain her attention, the Chief usually a lot more on her game – Splinter knows that because he’s very much gone against her in training, even if their specialities differ, she’s not usually thrown for longer than a few moments.

But then a cliff doesn’t collapse nearly on top of them every day either.

“Hey, hey,” he tries again, grapples to his feet with another strained sound, hand outstretched towards her so the Ranger could haul her up to her feet when she’s ready. There’s the slight return of a jibe as he bounces a little on the balls of his feet, winces where he’s hit the ground and there’s the feel of oncoming bruising on his side; not the time, they need to find an exit route: “Come on Chief, I don’t usually complain when you’re on your ass, but, we gotta move,” Splinter’s eyes glance ahead, try to figure out a new way back to base.

Then, he looks to the cliff that just came down on them with an unpleasant though – please not up. Any other time, Flint’s all for height, seeing from a distance; his element entirely.

Falling to his death, not so much.

The other option: navigating the uncharted narrowing tunnels of Lumina, in the hopes they could circle back around.

Apollo’s heart is still fast inside his chest when he racks their odds together, on ground, better; he’s sure of that – maybe.

[splinterapollo]

nicola: and here i thought you liked me wet

Splinter: Well, last I checked, it's usually a two way street.

[splinterapollo]

nicola: yeah, ha, no promises.

nicola: i'll bring a pitcher.

Splinter: Is that because you just like me wet?

Splinter: I knew it.

[splinterapollo]

nicola: that’s a great way to start the asking process.

nicola: i can come to you.

Splinter: I'm a great guy, what can I say.

Splinter: Yeah, probably easiest to explain in person, Nic.

Splinter: Can you bring one of those drinks you make that I like? Whatever they're called.

Splinter: Don't throw it at me though.

[splinterapollo]

nicola: splinter???

nicola: what's going on?

nicola: where are you?

Splinter: Watering Hole.

Splinter: I need a favour.

Splinter: And you're probably not going to like it.

[splinterapollo]

CAVE-IN

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,”

[splinterapollo]

Splinter's on edge, tinkered comms clenched in his hand; results of spending hours in his smithshop building a private means of communication. Yet despite his efforts, a signal refuses to come through; he's too far away, Tera's mass wall a major signal disrupter.

The device is held tight against his side of his leg as he traipses across the watering hole - no smart comments, no kind of pause to make a provocative jibe. There's no time for it and what he plans, remains to be on the catastrophic edge of betrayal if his intentions are ever found out.

In short, if Katana knew what he's built in order to go over her head about his method of handling those that are missing. He doesn't know what consequences would come.

Only hopes he doesn't miss a shot for the first time in his life. Not when it counts. If it ever comes to that.

But he's smiling only because he thinks he's far too clever to get caught at all. Even if Tera has their security ramped into overdrive because of the actions on Remembrance Day. Epitome of narcissism if there ever was one.

He presses himself against one of the trees on the edge of the opening, lake to his left and a leg kicked back as though he's conveying a casual break in his supply collecting, fingers carefully fiddle with the antenna on his comms; quietly mutters about how much he needs this to work.

Splinter: Nic -- is this, Nic is this making it through the wall?

Splinter: I need you, okay.

Splinter: You know why.

[splinterapollo]

dulcesatana​:

katana ✗ splinter.

splinter  is  wearing  what  he’s  feeling  for  everyone  to  witness.  the  way  his  arrows  are  tearing  into  that  tree,  and  it’s  like  it  is  the  only  thing  he  can  see.  what’s  really  catching  her  eye  though  isn’t  the  way  he  continues  to  dig  into  his  target  like  it’s  just  his  nature,  it’s  all  he  seems  able  to  focus  on  and  he  is  hitting  it  every  single  time—-  that’s  expected  now.  what  is  surprising  though  ;  his  ability  to  at  least  show  something,  whereas  she  appears  to  be  lost  in  nothing  more  then  thought.

she’s  exhaling  a  breath  that  feels  like  it  carries  a  thousand  tons,  her  head  is  shaking,  shoulders  shrugging  as  she  looks  back  up  at  him.  “  flint.  .  .  ’  it’s  not  a  warning  so  much  as  it  is  a  plead.

if  it  were  that  simple  did  he  really  think  she  would  just  be  sitting  there?  she  wasn’t  angry  with  him—-  she  was  angry  with  herself,  for  letting  river  do  this  and  not  going  in  her  place,  and  that  her  plan  had  now  cost  all  of  them  and  for  what?  a  stupid  fucking  box  that  they  couldn’t  even  open.  yeah,  a  lot  of  good  it  did  them.

“  it’s  not  that  simple.  we  need  a  plan,  and  a  damn  good  one.  ’  she  huffs,  eyes  torn  from  him  and  scanning  the  space  between  them  like  the  answer  might  just  be  laying  there  between  them.  “  she  connected  us  inside  the  walls  in  ways  that  i  can’t.  all  of  my  connections  are  right  here.  storming  in  there  unprepared  will  only  fuck  us  more.  ’

-

She uses his name; takes that as a personal warning more than anything, makes his jaw tic an inch as he reminds himself that this is his commander and he’s very close – if he hasn’t already, spoken a little too freely. Not the kind of jabs or jibes he’s renowned for; the crude and suggestive words that he likes to think coils around woman, but this is different. This is serious. A quality that Splinter has never really let himself sit in for too long, understands grief and brushes that hurt off with humour and self-amusement. Before it had been his parents, but then it had been firm; solid and very much real, that arrow in his father right in front of him whilst he held the bow. Stared death as purgatory came and went. Never had to sit in the waiting room for any of it.

With River, they’re all in purgatory; they’re in that waiting room going mad with the not knowing, one foot in and one out. It’s the same with both those captive. Apollo simply doesn’t like the way Katana uses the name – even if it’s not how he reads it. And he believes his heads clear of all irrationality. Won’t let himself know its not.

He’s not even in the kind of childish playful mood to let out a mock ‘Katana’ as a response.

The commander reiterates what they all know, it’s selfish of him to not want to hear it again. If he could turn around then and there and rain arrows down on Tera from where he is, he would, despite that impossibility. He’s good. But he’s not that good; can’t carry arrows for miles like some secondary force guides them beyond his own capabilities. Splinter doesn’t lift his eyes from the woman, even when she refuses to keep them trained on him.

Even when something slips that he’s not thought of. The flash in his eyes fortunately missed where she’s chosen to look away.

“You need someone on the inside,” he mutters under his breath, a thoughtfulness about the matter where he considers his own best kept secrets; the lies that aren’t lies as much as they’re just little snippets of information that he keeps away from those around him. Understands how it’d be seen if its known that Splint’s a little too familiar with Tera even after he’s near enough self-exiled from it.

Nic.

It’s only at that thought that he lifts his head skyward, eyes flicker up to the stars like he’s torn between the secrets he keeps and doing something reckless on his own.

Flint should stop thinking he’s untouchable.

Even if he likes to keep a good distance between himself and the targets.

What would you do if I had someone on the inside, Kat? He’s trying not to consider the personal feelings of what Nicola’s thinking, he doesn’t even think she wouldn’t help given the Balish that’s under Terran control. Apollo’s arms fold over his chest, head swivels back to his superior; needs an answer that stops him from acting on his own impulses:

“And have you got any plan, Kat?”

[splinterapollo]

delvedinto​:

SPLINTER ✘ HELENA​:

“Looks like you’re gonna have to keep guessing then.” She responded, not willing to give him the answer just yet. After all, she had to watch him beg a little - that was the fun part. Relieved that the joint crackling had stopped, she rolled her shoulders back and rotated her neck in attempt to ease the tension which she held in them. Never did she deem herself intimidating, not even with the look she proudly held on her face daily, she would merely describe herself as unapproachable and that’s what she liked. Others understood not to tread on her toes otherwise she was more than prepared to come crashing down on them like a tonne of bricks. Though she was amused when Flint did his best to antagonise her; he got under her skin sure but she could handle it, she could handle him. 

Tilting her head to the side, a coy smile graced her lips as she played innocent. “Tell me what it’s good for.” She instructed, brows raised while her small hands perched on her hips. “You know my mouth has a good few tricks of its own.” She teased, knowing that was one of the last things he’d expect her to say. Distracting him was all part of her game though, she knew what she was able to say in order to rile him up. “I can show you one day if you’d like.” Understanding he had other ideas of what training should entail, she simply dismissed them and paid no attention. Tongue running along her bottom lip as she glanced up and down at him, gaze peering through her long lashes. 

A fight wasn’t the same without physical contact, Helena knew this but the closing of proximity between them was enough for her to retreat backwards until his foot caught her ankle and her elbow made contact with his side.  The first blow was always one of the most critical, one which allowed her to get over her fear of touching. Now she was eased and prepared to rise to the challenge the both raised to. “That’s what I like to hear.” She grinned, both of them parting to calculate their next moves. 

Hand-to-hand combat was one of Helena’s many expertise. With increasing her rank came multiple sessions such as these, she was even beginning to teach a few now that she had reached that level of responsibility within the sentinels. Their end goals matched, both of them wanted the other pinned to the floor… just in different contexts. 

His hand almost flew at her but she was grateful for her reflexes, she managed to block the contact with minimal impact to her palms. As she pushed his hand into the air, her knee lifted to hit his stomach. It wasn’t her strongest knee-lift but it still packed somewhat of a punch if it made contact. In combat training sessions, the intention wasn’t to hurt or wound the other opponent but instead to improve reflexes. 

She didn’t want their session to end with an injury but she was prepared to keep fighting back until he was face first underneath her on the ground. She was competitive. Plus, growing up with two older brothers came with its pros and she had experienced many physical fights with the pair of them.

-

“Maybe I’m a little too comfortable with the unknown,” he chimes in; a twist on the truth; but in its current environment, more that than anything else. Maybe I’ll like the or what H. “Tell me anything you like, Mathews, I’ll treat it the same,” And that’s with a smile and a challenge, as with most things exchanged between them. Flint’s never sure if she’s used to the back and forth from anyone else – or if it’s exclusively permitted from him, that warnings off the playful behaviour never quite hit; miss their target, if he were to formulate an understanding of its equivalence. It’s evident enough with the grin he wears; the enjoyment between them; gives back like he does.

“Just tell you?” his eyes narrow, tongue titters like it’s the disappointing way of answering. “I’d do better to show—” takes the words right out of his mouth, steps closer again to the woman, wonders if there’s any of her own truth to her taunts. Splinter’s got a severity to his tone – but carries it like a joke, as with everything. He’s trying to act like Helena isn’t easily falling in line with the teases. Wonders what the play is with her apparent return fire. It’s an odd stand-off, a guarded one that Flint’s convinced he’s got the upper hand of; knows the war of words better than Hel, so he thinks.

And he doesn’t have time for it, because limbs are moving again.

A blow hits his stomach only a moment after his hand hits the woman’s palm, he doubles forward, a burst of air escaping as its torn out of him. Splint recedes, quickly increases the distance before another blow can land, arm lifts to prepare for another knee if it were to come up. He expects to take hits – if only by simple calculation; Helena’s smaller, more agile, therefore a little faster and he’s very much aware that where she thrives in the close contact, he’s very much a distance guy. Not for the fact of lack of interest, but that there’s an uncanny matter of how he just sees the whole picture better; scopes an entire landscape instead of a singular person up close. Prefers not to have to be aware of his surroundings whilst there’s an imminent threat in front of him.

He wants to see it all at once, and he can’t.

But he’s innately stronger than Helena; biological advantage and all that, if he does land a harsh hit. Though, it doesn’t stop Splint from at least having fun with the woman before one of them falls on their backside. “You know there’s other things you can use your knees for,” he quips, only takes a moment to toss the jibe before he twists to throw another hand in her direction, uses the other as a potential block for any counters; keeps the force light enough that he’s not want to take the wind entirely out of her if she doesn’t use that graceful speed to her benefit.

[splinterapollo]

dulcesatana​:

open  to  all  outlanders. location  arcadia.

things  had  been  difficult  without  river.  she  was  the  closest  kat  ever  got  to  opening  up.  it  didn’t  help  that  they  couldn’t  seem  to  find  a  way  into  the  damn  box  that  she  got  herself  locked  up  for.  she  didn’t  blame  anyone,  really—-  except  maybe  river,  and  that  was  only  the  nagging  little  thought  of  i  told  you  so.  it  doesn’t  change  that  river  was  still  right  in  the  choices  she  made  that  led  to  her  capture.  they’re  lucky  they  got  away  with  only  a  few  of  their  people  missing,  but  that  still  isn’t  enough  for  katana.  she  can’t  find  a  way  to  be  okay  with  any  of  it—  how  could  she?

and  still,  even  with  the  mess  of  thoughts  slingshotting  around  in  her  mind,  she’s  offering  a  smile  to  the  outlander  that’s  moving  towards  her.  her  open  door  policy  proving  to  be  all  the  more  true  since  their  return.  “  is  everything  okay?  ’  aside  from  the  obvious.

@terastart​

-

There’s a resounding echo of whistles that come one after the other, repeated systematically like a machine on a set fire rate. It’s so practiced, without pause that it could be passed off as a some kind of robot. Instead, it’s just Splinter’s irritation worming its way into his muscles and reacting in the only way he knows how; archery. Hours of it. Even the most proficient of rangers feel the burn, the roaring of complaint in his arms where he’s kept them upright, held them steady with a tension, sting his forefinger and middle with red ridges where the bowstring digs deep and a constant fluid movement that keeps finding arrows from his quiver like clockwork. Until he runs out, then there’s a moment of pause – a silence where his footsteps walk forward to retrieve the fired splinters from the mark its buried it, tugs them out one by one, recoups them.

And repeat.

Because all of that; the overworking of muscles, sore aches in his body and an ignorance to his own health as he lands crafted arrows into his targets like he’s ever miss is all better than admitting the truth: they lost. Whilst his personal mission with Athena had been successful – an unpleasant trip down memory lane, they had failed – and Flint failed River.

Fuck he doesn’t want to admit that hurts. Because Splinter doesn’t like to bomb at anything, A confidence in himself that he carries with ease; infectious in ways to those around him, disgusting is the arrogance to others. But in the moment of draw, hold, release, none of that matters and he takes up position again, arm rises to withdraw another arrow, lines it up and a second later, gone.

Whistle.

Clunk.

It hits. As though any other fucking possibility was ever going to happen.

But this time, Apollo’s staring through the lowering light of the evening, lowers his arms to his side as he stands there in the heart of their camp and just finally listens to the world move around him. Because it does go on, and he knows it. Doesn’t care to hide the defeat like some that evening, also prides on vigilance; resilience – though, it’s hard found in that moment. They’ve lost people. And he’d obeyed orders, reluctantly, as with everything he doesn’t like.

Knows how trading places is an impossibility but River, as second, is far more needed than he is. And even then, she’s not the only one absent. 

If you let it eat at you, you’re going to lose your mind; you know grief. He does, and he likes to think he’s been known to handle it better. This one, just comes on the backend of a loss that he’s going to sit on his bitter pedestal and gripe about. He takes a breath, shakes his head of it and feels the pain in his upper arms finally, like he’s back in the world beyond whistling.

The one than needs Splinter Apollo in a better capacity.

He doesn’t even mean to turn in the direction of Katana, but he’s already there, found her through a fog-like mist brought on by lowering temperatures of the night. The smile on his face that tips – is usually genuine, this one, is faux and without the gleam, but it’s not harsh. “Yeah,” he mutters, glances back at the tree he’d been destroying for hours, the next sarcasm that’s kind of brought his own humour back at the thought of his jibe is a little too evident: “I’m as good as that tree over there, it could do with some water though, or maybe a river’s worth.” Naturally, retracts his bow and slides it into the gap between his back and the quiver, folds arms over his chest calmly; quietly hides how sore they are. “We should go find one,”