[It has taken them a little while to reach this place, Giovanni tracking scents through the tangle of Leithian forest, picking their way through outlying farms and then into the thick-gathering trees, pushing in close and unmoving as sentinels. There's some level of frustration in him at having to go at a speed the others can match, no bright burst of unnatural quickness, ensuring both Steph and the Handler can keep up, but it matters, doesn't it? For all three of them to get there-- or at least, for him and Steph to get there together. He can sense it in her, the urgency, just as that very same urgency pulses in him, something that goes beyond his usual sense of duty, pushes in between the stones of cold indifference he feels for most individuals, his loyalty usually something reserved for the more nebulous concepts of 'Company' and 'those above him', outside of a small few.
A small few that seems to have expanded, of late.
But contemplation of such things will have to wait for another time, and it's something not quite attended to besides, not quite conscious in him. All he knows is that his superior is missing, captured, possibly at risk of losing his life and as such the violence burns hot in him, waiting to be unleashed. And now, it seems, that time has come.
He's led them in close enough for the non-enhanced among them to easily discern the little clearing beyond the clutch of trees they currently crouch behind. The camp is sparse, subtle, something hard to pick out perhaps if one doesn't know what one is looking for, but there's the rustle of human activity here, small signs of life, and more than that, a familiar scent that Giovanni has been guiding them unfailingly towards. He glances back over his shoulder now, eyes skimming over his Handler to alight on Steph instead. He keeps his voice low, but there's something hard and hot beneath it, volatility rising up in him, impatient to begin.]
There are twelve of them, as far as I can discern. Ready?
enter the cavalry - Giovanni and Steph, and later Rhys too
A small few that seems to have expanded, of late.
But contemplation of such things will have to wait for another time, and it's something not quite attended to besides, not quite conscious in him. All he knows is that his superior is missing, captured, possibly at risk of losing his life and as such the violence burns hot in him, waiting to be unleashed. And now, it seems, that time has come.
He's led them in close enough for the non-enhanced among them to easily discern the little clearing beyond the clutch of trees they currently crouch behind. The camp is sparse, subtle, something hard to pick out perhaps if one doesn't know what one is looking for, but there's the rustle of human activity here, small signs of life, and more than that, a familiar scent that Giovanni has been guiding them unfailingly towards. He glances back over his shoulder now, eyes skimming over his Handler to alight on Steph instead. He keeps his voice low, but there's something hard and hot beneath it, volatility rising up in him, impatient to begin.]
There are twelve of them, as far as I can discern. Ready?
[Show time.]