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Snippet #2764417

located in Rebel Camp, a part of Outcasters: Atonement, one of the many universes on RPG.

Rebel Camp

A small campsite belonging to the Fey Rebellion, which never seems to remain in the same place for very long.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Isaac Davenport Character Portrait: Zio Character Portrait: Hannah
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Zio listened to Hannah's words, his curiosity at its peak, though not a hint of it showed through his expression. He remained motionless, guarded but not outright unwilling to believe. There was a sincerity to her words that the stoic soldier had picked up on throughout the speech.

Of course, very few knew of Alec's survival, let alone the state of the realm and Alec's tie to it. There was something strange about her; he wasn't sure yet if that was good or bad.

"I am not sure how much time we have left. I am in your cell with you, but I do not sense any resistance from you. Are you being treated like this willingly?"

"I am here at Alec's request, so I must endure this treatment until my task is completed," he explained, albeit sparing her all the details. Time was an issue, as she'd said. "I doubt we've enough time here for you to convince me of your trustworthiness, so allow me to propose an idea." Zio lowered himself to his knees, hands placed in his lap, eyes trained ever-still on the stranger. "I will complete the task that ties me to this place, the Rebel Camp, and tomorrow - if all goes well - I will meet you by the entrance of it. I will take you to Alec myself, so that I know you will not launch an ambush, and you may speak your truth to the Prince directly."

The Fey made a small gesture, akin to a shrug, and decided to finish off this confrontation with a stern statement. "If this does not work for you then I'm afraid there is little I can do to help, for I am no fool, but I will not deny you if there's a chance you speak the truth."




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"Isaac?!" called the all-too-familiar voice of Isaac's younger sister, her intentions made clear through the urgency in her tone. The Prince, sitting upon a self-crafted wooden stool and absentmindedly wiping blood from his blade, snapped his gaze upwards. "Isaac, I need you!" she called again upon entering.

With a sharp huff, Isaac set down his blade and rag, and lifted himself from his seat. "Keep your voice down, would'ya?" he answered back, hesitant to close the gap between them until he'd gotten his words out, thereafter followed by actions taken to secure their privacy. "As if there aren't enough rumours already." The likes of which had thus far not found his father's ears, to their incredible luck. Carelessness would only speed up the process.

He side-stepped Sunday, approached the door of his chambers and gently pushed it closed until he heard the ever-so-quiet click of its lock.

"It's not been that long since I last fed, y'know," drawled the suddenly calm and somewhat cocky Prince as he turned to his sister, half-smile hinting that his own assumptions about her needs had left him in a state of amusement. "You're not addicted already, surely?"

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