Racheria sighs as she reaches out the slightly open door and grasps one of the towels on the right, pulling it down into the shower enclosure with her and wrapping her frame within it while rubbing dry the fur beneath her breasts. she slides the towel over the top of her head and lightly rubs the scar there, tingling from sensitivity as she ties the towel edge together just underneath her arms. Reaching out to the door, she pushes it open and glances at the sink where the handgun lies, along with the magazines. Grabbing the firearm, she palms the weapon via the top slide and hefts it in her paw softly, adjusting to the weight of it within her palm. Placing it back down, she turns and walks out of the enclosure back into the bedroom, looking for the rucksack she dropped somewhere.

A quick glance towards the foot of the bed and a grin forms on her face, walking towards the nondescript brown bag lying there and towing it to chest height with a yank. Opening it via top zipper, she digs in and pulls out a pair of cargo shorts and a dark red long sleeved shirt then tosses them onto the bed, followed by the towel from her body. With a coy grin, she looks inside the bag at the dark red satin lace undergarments lying inside, Gothic in style yet encompassing and covering.

Pulling it out and dropping the bag to the floor with a thud, she begins to put on the bra portion around her breasts, cupping them within the soft material as she hooks the strap behind her, then hoists her globes within her paws to adjust placement slightly. Bending over, she lowers to her animalistic feet and steps one foot into the panties within her paw just as the sliding door opens up behind her. Turning her head to look back, she catches White staring at her with open jaws as if he was about to speak, his eyes focused on her bent figure.

"Well? See something you like?"

She teases, sliding her other foot into her panties and pulling them upwards with a slow draw, a low tone rumble barely audible to her echoing out the higher she goes, then removes her paws and turns to face him once her panties are effectively covering her.

-----------------------------

White shakes his head from the solidly shaped form he saw then closes the door behind him, stepping to the side and leaning against the concrete wall as he folds his arms across his chest.

"I was coming down here to get you for some weapons handling, but instead I walk in to you giving a pose. Shame. Oh well, guess I'll go have fun piecing together some medium caliber rifles while you..... The fuck you doing?"

He says, his left eyebrow perking up as she toys with her bra strap, teasing the lace edge down just enough to gaze at the bounty there without pulling it out. Shaking his head, he sighs and slaps his paw to his face then turns to the door. "When you're done teasing, I'll be upstairs."

He grasps the handle to the door just as a burst of air whips around him, pressing his body in place. Growling softly, he shifts his weight closer to the ground then moves against the wind pressure and slowly, steadily opens up the door, stumbling slightly and slamming the door hard when the wind releases him from its grip. Releasing the door, he turns his head and looks at Racheria then grins devilishly as she stands with an arm raised, staring at him in surprise within her slightly pulsing red eyes.

"How? How the hell could you resist that?"

She asks, lowering her arm back down to her side as her head tilts slightly, giving her an aura of puppy like curiosity.

"Simple. But you'll just have to find out."

He says with a wink, then slips out the door and closes it as a blush starts to form on her cheeks.

-----------------------------

'Asshole.'

She thinks as she watches him slip out, shaking her head and securing her bra as he walks away from the door. Snorting softly, she turns and grabs the long sleeved shirt off the bed then quickly rolls it from the bottom and slips her arms into the sleeves, followed by her head. Rolling it down, she reaches out for the shorts and undoes the waist button then bends down and slips her legs in, slowly lifting up in case White decides to step in again.

Fixing the fly and that the waist button is closed, she sits down on the chest and grabs her boots lying nearby then slips them onto her feet without tying them yet. Rising into a standing position, she rolls her head side to side then lifts her right foot onto the chest and deftly ties the laces on it, doing the same to the other boot after setting her foot down on the ground.

Grabbing the bag and zipping it closed, she slings the straps over her shoulders and walks over to the door, pushing it open and smoothly slinking through then walking into the open bathroom enclosure. Glancing at the firearm there, she slips off her shoulder one bag strap and swings it in front of her, opening and placing in most of the magazines inside.

Closing the bag and sliding the loose strap back over her shoulder again, she grabs the remaining magazines and slides them into her left hip pocket while her other paw holds the firearm by the grip properly, studying the weapon closely. After a few moments she slides it into her right hip pocket while turning around and exiting the bathroom, pausing for a moment to actually study the rest of the room with more than a passing glance.

A large washer and dryer sit on the East facing wall center left, a basket sitting on the open floorspace to the far left below several wall-mounted metal bars with worn clothing on them. The right portion of the wall is taken up entirely by five wood stowage racks from a foot off the ground to about six feet high, each with large amounts of different clothing types folded neatly on top. Shrugging slightly, she turns and walks through the open doorway to the room leading upstairs, taking the stairway steps two at a time.

Glancing out the massive West-facing window once her head breaches the floorline, she squints her eyes to dull the light streaming through as she walks off the hidden stairway, turning her head left as a loud ca-chink sounds out in that direction. Staring back at her with an emotionless gaze stood White, piecing together what looked to be a modified assault rifle in his paws while a clearly different rifle lays near the center of the table.

"The hell are you planning to do with those? Fight off a group of feral bears?"

She asks, walking over to the table and pressing her paws on the surface, leaning onto her arms while focusing on the rifle in his paws. He just snorts and slams a switch on the side, the rifle releasing a loud clank as he sets it down on the table.

"No, more like at least a platoon sized group of ex-military mercs. Honestly, I know enough of your power, and I fully believe that once they know of your location, a massive amount of troops will swarm in to try and neutralize you," he says, setting the rifle on a towel near the edge of the table. "I will not let that happen. I agreed to protecting you, so that is what I will do."

-----------------------------

White could see how it would happen within his mind. Fifteen darkly uniformed troops running at a firm pace down an old hallway, sunlight streaming through the broken windows and damaged walls onto their gear as they pass by. Every few feet they would pass a doorway, some with a partially broken door, others skewing out from the frame or gone completely. The lead soldier holds up his gloved hand in a fist, stopping all the following men behind him as they approach a doorway sealed by a completely undamaged door. Lifting a finger and spinning it around then pointing towards the door, he lowers his hand back to his rifle and aims towards the doorway as the rest circle around quietly, muted sound coming from each of their movements as they raise their weapons at the door.

A sound to his left pulls him out of thought and into motion as he turns his head to see Racheria sidle up near him, looking down at the H&K 417 lying there. Leaning over it slightly, she brushes her right paw over the foreguard then the receiver lightly, lifting her arm away from it as she rubs her thumb and pointer tips against each other.

"Go ahead and pick it up. It won't bite you when you hold it."

He says, gesturing towards it with his right paw openly. 'The touch of cold metal might heat you up a bit though.' He adds in afterthought as she grasps the foreguard and stock in her paws, lifting the weapon off the table with a soft grunt.

"Damn, this thing has heft to it. How much does this M16 weigh?"

She asks, turning her head to look at him. He chuckles and sighs in reply, shaking his head lightly at her.

"That isn't an M16. It does resemble it, but this isn't made in Springfield or Rock island Arsenal. This is an H&K 417, a German-made combat rifle chambered for 7.62 by 51 NATO rounds. You can use .308 caliber rounds in it better though." He says, turning and leaning against the table with his hip as he places his paws behind him on the surface. "It's going to be yours for the foreseeable future, so you'll be getting familiar with it as we travel."

-----------------------------

Racheria shifts her right paw from the stock to the pistol grip, keeping her pointer finger away from the trigger for the time being.

"So, is this thing loaded? I don't want to blow a hole through the window if I can help it."

She asks, turning the rifle's top side towards her to look at the ejection port on the right side. White snickers then laughs in amusement, making her jump slightly from the deep baritone sound vibrating into her chest.

"Nothing short of a .50 BMG would be able to break through even one side of these windows, but no, it isn't loaded. Pull the handle where the rail meets the stock, it opens up the chamber to check."

He says, a sly grin on his lips as he folds his arms across his chest.

With a snort she releases the pistol grip and does as he says, glancing into the open firing chamber of the rifle and seeing no bullets, in the barrel or otherwise. Releasing the handle, the bolt carrier slams forward with a sharp clank as she places her paw back to the grip. A smile slowly grows on her lips as she raises the weapon stock to her shoulder and holds it there, feeling the contained power within the carbon fiber against her shoulder. Glancing down the sight, she perks her eyebrow softly then lowers the rifle down from her shoulder as she looks at White.

"So what's with the crossing lines in this sight? Target size estimation?"

She asks, forcing a slight snort from him in reply.

"No, those are for longer distance shots. Each one of those cross points on the line has a number by it, correct?"

He replies, flicking his pointer finger out towards the scope on the H&K. She shoulders the rifle again and notes the escalating crosslines with even numbers 8 to 4 within the sight, topped off by a red dot encompassed by a downward facing horseshoe of the same color.

Lowering the weapon, she turns her head and nods at him to continue. "Good. Those are range lines, showing the predicted impact point of the round at a certain distance. The red dot is ranged for 150 meters, with each of the following numbers telling how many hundreds of meters away that impact point is. Understanding so far?"

She nods her head slowly, then snorts and gives a self-deprecating smile.

"Sort of. I understand that they mean where the bullet will hit, but past that I didn't quite understand. Keep it simple, soldier."

She says, a soft chuckle rumbling from his chest in reply as she raises an eyebrow. "Laugh all you want asshole, not everyone has grown up using firearms since they were three."

-----------------------------

White goes into a bout of chuckling at her confusion, sincerely amused by a portion of her words. Leading the chuckle off into a yawn, he bounces his hip off the table and takes a single step closer to her, reaching out and grasping the weapon just slightly wider than she is. She looks up at him for a moment then releases her grip on the rifle, letting the full weight of it settle into his paws with only a slight shift of his arms.

"I wasn't laughing at you," He says softly, setting the rifle back onto the table with one paw, "But rather amused by an acronym that you unknowingly said."

"And that would be what?"

She asks as she tilts her head slightly back and to the side, revealing a small portion of her neck to his gaze.

His eyes focus on the gentle curve of her shoulder leading to her neck, then glides a trail along her chin to her mostly curious eyes. He leans his head down closer to her ear above her exposed neck, tracking the slight shiver that flows away from her ear as he takes a breath near it.

"Keep It Simple, Stupid. Kiss."

He whispers, lowering his head and feather-softly pressing a kiss at the base of her neck then leaning away.

-----------------------------

Racheria trembles softly at the feather-light touch of his lips against her fur in such a sensitive place, almost groaning out loud as he moves the encompassing heat of his mouth away.

'Damn seductive beast, teasing me without doing anything.'

She thinks and refocuses her eyes back on him. Coughing, she clears her throat then nods towards the table, eager to distract herself from the feeling that still tingles softly against her neck.

"So what about that other one? It looks.... battle-tested."

She asks, looking at the marred matte black aluminum framework and worn padding on the fore- and trigger grips. Noticeable deflection marks stream around every exposed piece on the weapon, evidence of flying debris from many encounters. Worn spots and other minor marks hold silent memories within the smooth surfaces, a testament to the worldly hell both it and it's operator have been through.

"It's more than that. I owe my life to this rifle, just as so many others do."

He says, turning and grasping the rifle on the table with his paws in a way that seems like it is a part of him. "This is an M14 EBR-RI, a modern day version of a rifle from the 60s. Same caliber as the H&K, but longer reaching and even more lethal." He opens up the bolt and locks it in place, then quickly does a check of the magazine well without any noticeable thought processing. "The attachments on this are set up for what I needed when it was issued: high-power adjustable scope and thermal imager on a flip-down sight mount, slap down bipod and straight foregrip for the bottom rail."

-----------------------------

White looks at Racheria once finished with his explanation, studying the curious expression held on her face. Motion in the forest past the windows behind her draws his eyes over her head and into the woodline some distance away, the sunlight shining a dull yellow-orange onto the tree trunks and unkept vegetation in between. Slowly, he shoulders his rifle and pulls the high-power to the left then activates the thermal sight in front of it, switching the mode to white-hot imaging while walking past Racheria towards the window.

All of his senses sharpen as all motion slow around him, hearing as Racheria turns around with a light sizzling sound and looks out the window with him, but smartly staying behind him as he steadily scans the treeline. The building and light wind dulls his hearing by a noticeable degree, enough to dilute the rustling of leafy vegetation just as feral deer walks into his sights.

Snorting, he lowers the rifle and turns back to Racheria as he lowers his focused processing then blinks at the sight before him. Racheria's red eyes glowing softly as flames encase her forearms to create a solid-looking gauntlet of roiling fire, holding a slowly rotating ball of fire within her drawn right paw while she holds an aggressive, low and wide legged stance.

"Well? What is it?"

She asks, her eyes snapping everywhere around him at various distances. He perks his eyebrow then shakes his head, releasing the rifle and waving with his left paw.

"Merely a deer. Tempting to hunt, but I don't need the food."

He replies back calmly, then turns right and grabs a large, military looking bag from the wall slot in the opposite room, sliding it over his left shoulder with a quiet grunt. "My bag has several magazines for each rifle along with other supplies and light gear, but are you ready? This won't be quite like you have ever imagined."

With a nod, she clasps her right paw around the rolling ball of flame and snuffs it out, the flames on her arms dying away as the glow in her eyes dulls. Drawing her stance back into a steady but relaxed posture, she lifts her shoulder towards him where a small strap flows around to the backpack she brought with her.

"If nothing else, I have you."

She replies, walking closer towards him with firm, steady steps. "So I guess I am prepared for everything yet nothing."

He chuckles, then turns around and walks to the door with her mere steps behind him. Stopping, he slides the other strap over his right shoulder and jostles it slightly then fiddles with the door lock until it releases with the soft sigh of released air. Pulling it open, he walks out the doorway and onto the forest ground then stops and turns, looking at Racheria as she stands on the very brink of the concrete base of his home. She glances back at the building then checks the forest around it, as if waiting for the world to come out and strike at her without a thought.

'A time's lost Queen,

distrustful of the world before her even within Nature's peace,

calmed by the solemn Phantom's rumbling speech.'

He thinks, stunned by the saddened visage her face holds as she looks towards the sky.

Moments pass until she looks at White, holding his gaze as she takes the small steps down to the forest floor with him. The wind whispers against his ears as she stops just before him, nodding her head in reply to his silent question. Without a word, he reaches out with his left paw and gently rests it underneath her jaw, brushing his thumb against her cheek to swipe the tear away from her fur then releasing her.

"It's time."

Is all he says, then turns and walks into the overlording trees as she follows behind him.

End of Arc 1, Seclusion.