Excellent. I'm coming out to the beach. I'll be just to the east of the village, around those big rocks that the Nalawi children are always poking their fingers into. I'll be the one with red hair.
[And true to that promise, Evan was out and waiting in the sea breeze in very little time. The day had been a slow one, if tense for all that was going on, and once he had left the confines of the village and its tiny buildings, he found that the sea air was a relief. He picked a spot on the rocks far away from the teeming tidepools, and sat, and the waiting allowed him to let go for a time of the worry and the fretting he'd been doing.
Evan was a slight young man, with only a bit of breadth across his shoulders from all the manual labour he'd been taking part in on this world over the past three months. He'd accrued a tan but it was a new one, and the orange of his hair had bleached out a little: he had shaken off some of the look of a person who spent most of their time indoors, though not all of it. His uniform was in rough shape: the extremities entirely missing, including the boots, replaced by sandals of Nawali crafting. The tattered edges suggested burning, although he'd done his best to trim them down, and all down the left side of the torso there were faded stains that may have been blood.
On that same side, too, his face was bandaged. The bandages were tight and well-maintained but sparse, and held a pad in place over one of his eyes. Around the bandage were faint pinkish scars, still healing, that interrupted his eyebrow and looked like they might have been made by something small and clawed. He kept lookout with his good eye, but otherwise sat quite still.]
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[And true to that promise, Evan was out and waiting in the sea breeze in very little time. The day had been a slow one, if tense for all that was going on, and once he had left the confines of the village and its tiny buildings, he found that the sea air was a relief. He picked a spot on the rocks far away from the teeming tidepools, and sat, and the waiting allowed him to let go for a time of the worry and the fretting he'd been doing.
Evan was a slight young man, with only a bit of breadth across his shoulders from all the manual labour he'd been taking part in on this world over the past three months. He'd accrued a tan but it was a new one, and the orange of his hair had bleached out a little: he had shaken off some of the look of a person who spent most of their time indoors, though not all of it. His uniform was in rough shape: the extremities entirely missing, including the boots, replaced by sandals of Nawali crafting. The tattered edges suggested burning, although he'd done his best to trim them down, and all down the left side of the torso there were faded stains that may have been blood.
On that same side, too, his face was bandaged. The bandages were tight and well-maintained but sparse, and held a pad in place over one of his eyes. Around the bandage were faint pinkish scars, still healing, that interrupted his eyebrow and looked like they might have been made by something small and clawed. He kept lookout with his good eye, but otherwise sat quite still.]