We can easily forgive a child
who is afraid of the dark
who is afraid of the dark
The man in his grasp let out a cry as his arm twisted painfully. If it were a spar, Zavien would be immediately apologizing, checking that no permanent damage had been done to the extremity - but this wasn't a spar. These ruffians had planned to hurt this man and steal whatever he may have of value. The reek of injustice filtered through the darkness and anxieties, flaring his dormant protective instincts enough to elicit anger. He pulled the grip a little tighter, his green eyes narrowed as he said, "Not so fun when it's a fair fight, huh?"
Zavien pushed the man away just as the third culprit plowed into his shoulder. Quick as a whip, the Dragoon grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, bringing his face close enough to let him see the dangerous sincerity in his eyes. "Get lost before I have a mind to do something I might regret." Because, in his current state of mind - with no dragon to ground his emotions - he was finding it extremely hard not to use the violence as a means of distraction, and he didn't like the way it threatened to compromise his honorable nature.
Letting the man drop from his hold, he watched as the two would-be thieves stumbled into the street, sneers and glares thrown to preserve some modicum of pride. Zavien ignored them, kneeling beside the one slumped against the wall. He reached to check for a pulse with practiced precision. When he assessed the deep breaths and bounding heartbeat, he sat back on his heels, somewhat relieved that the man hadn't died in such a pointless manner, although grateful that he wouldn't be picking anymore fights anytime soon.
His voice was stoic and resigned, a seasoned soldier still in the calm of battle. "He's just unconscious." Whether the man found that reassuring or not, he wouldn't know. But he glanced up regardless, taking note of any visible injuries as he asked, "Are you okay?"
Zavien pushed the man away just as the third culprit plowed into his shoulder. Quick as a whip, the Dragoon grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, bringing his face close enough to let him see the dangerous sincerity in his eyes. "Get lost before I have a mind to do something I might regret." Because, in his current state of mind - with no dragon to ground his emotions - he was finding it extremely hard not to use the violence as a means of distraction, and he didn't like the way it threatened to compromise his honorable nature.
Letting the man drop from his hold, he watched as the two would-be thieves stumbled into the street, sneers and glares thrown to preserve some modicum of pride. Zavien ignored them, kneeling beside the one slumped against the wall. He reached to check for a pulse with practiced precision. When he assessed the deep breaths and bounding heartbeat, he sat back on his heels, somewhat relieved that the man hadn't died in such a pointless manner, although grateful that he wouldn't be picking anymore fights anytime soon.
His voice was stoic and resigned, a seasoned soldier still in the calm of battle. "He's just unconscious." Whether the man found that reassuring or not, he wouldn't know. But he glanced up regardless, taking note of any visible injuries as he asked, "Are you okay?"
The real tragedy is men
who are afraid of the light
who are afraid of the light
Zavien
