[Don’t jinx us, Steve says, and Sephiroth can’t help but huff out a scoff — mainly because it seems too late, because he, too, spies a figure in the distance. It’s too early to say whether or not this bodes unwell or otherwise, though, and he nods at the question.]
I see it.
[Sephiroth twists his body to the other soldiers, suggesting that they remain here; maybe he’s jumping the gun, but without knowing what this person wants, there’s no point in keeping the convoy moving. Best to put space between them.]
Let’s meet them halfway and see what they want. I don’t want to risk the wagons.
[He suggests to Steve, not wanting the stranger—who looks to be hobbling, from what he can make out—to draw too close. Instead, he squeezes at his horse with his legs, putting himself into a trot.
Whether or not his companion chooses to follow, eventually, the stranger makes his way towards them. His gait is slow, his clothes are blooded at the thigh and torso — these are the immediately obvious impressions. He looks tired, and a little pale from the blood loss, but he’s functional enough to stand on his feet, palms pressed to his knees in a heaving breath, and manage:
You… you lot, thank goodness you’re here. You’ve gotta help me, I’ve been wandering this way for an age looking for someone on this road.]
no subject
I see it.
[Sephiroth twists his body to the other soldiers, suggesting that they remain here; maybe he’s jumping the gun, but without knowing what this person wants, there’s no point in keeping the convoy moving. Best to put space between them.]
Let’s meet them halfway and see what they want. I don’t want to risk the wagons.
[He suggests to Steve, not wanting the stranger—who looks to be hobbling, from what he can make out—to draw too close. Instead, he squeezes at his horse with his legs, putting himself into a trot.
Whether or not his companion chooses to follow, eventually, the stranger makes his way towards them. His gait is slow, his clothes are blooded at the thigh and torso — these are the immediately obvious impressions. He looks tired, and a little pale from the blood loss, but he’s functional enough to stand on his feet, palms pressed to his knees in a heaving breath, and manage:
You… you lot, thank goodness you’re here. You’ve gotta help me, I’ve been wandering this way for an age looking for someone on this road.]