<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><ul><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Timeline: Modern<br/>Location: Texas, Hunting grounds.</span><br/><span style="color: blue"><span style="font-weight: bold">Open Thread</span></span><br/><br/>A certified, patient male walked through the woods, the balls of his feet resting first on the ground, followed by the rest of them feet, one at a time. He was moving slowly; sharp and accurate vision scanned and observed the surroundings scouting for deer, mimicking its movement speed. No binoculars were needed at that point, nor did he need the use of a compass for he could monitor the changes in the wind and thermal direction using his accurate instincts.<br/><br/>Beside motor-racing, the raven haired one enjoyed hunting. These activities made him appreciate the mortals, appreciate his new lifestyle. There were times where he completely forgot who he was, and today was one. Just a simple man somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He was carrying a field knife, a Colt Python - a total of about a dozen cartridges and a rucksack including things he could need in case he was to stay overnight. It was a rainy, cloudy morning and one of the best times to hunt. The rain softened the leaves - the twigs and the forest floor in general, making his movements the least audible. <br/><br/>To avoid a lot of noise, he left his jacket in the car before crossing the hunting territory. His clothes were soaked. He was dressed in a khaki cotton t-shirt, a pair of old jeans made of a very thin material, dark brown hiking boots and his head was covered with a brown leather bonnie hat. A pair of black combat tactical fingerless leather gloves clothed his hands so he could shoot without having to remove said gloves. There was also something different about the man; he seemed to have gotten a natural sun-kissed tan to his usual pale skin. <br/><br/>About an hour and half later, Solas was now standing at 50 yards away from his target, azure orbs fixated on the color blind quarry. Holding his breath, he faced the target and unlocked his knees. He slowly raised one arm, left hand gripping a gun in a way he was able to control its recoil while firing. He only planned to shoot once â€“ a one shot headshot jackpot. He placed his finger on a sexy Colt Python trigger and fired, dropping the prey dead in one single shot to the head.<br/><br/>Suddenly, keen hearing alerted him of an approaching presence, nearing his location. Another hunter? It was certainly not a deer.<br/></ul></span>