The outburst was unexpected, but not as much as the petty insults, baseless cruelty, and crass swearing that accompanied it. Jigano blinked as venom spewed from the stranger's lips, unprepared for the viciousness of the assault, especially when he had just left himself vulnerable to the attack by trying to find a point of similarity between them. The ragged man lashed out with any weapon that he could reach for, flaying the already-weakened loreseeker to the quick and tearing into wounds still fresh from other knives.
Something dark and wicked surged in his blood, snarling for satisfaction, for vengeance, for words to rip into this mad dog's throat, sinking to his level, reaching for the source of those tears and dragging a river from the beggar's eyes. And more than words, the urge to strike out with his staff, to wipe the savage malice from his face spiked hard and the lorekeeper's fingers tightened on the wood in his grip.
That urge to physical violence kept Jigano in check, the shock of it stemming the rising tide of black anger that had begun to turn the edges of his vision red. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood as he turned to walk away, and the stranger's words suddenly mattered not at all against the need to focus hard on his own self-control, his fingernails and teeth itching to elongate but for the discipline used to keep them blunt and human.
His breathing came in a pained hiss as he walked, and when he stopped it was less to remain close enough for the stranger to find him and more to drop to sit on a fallen log, seeking in meditation what the confrontation had cost him in control.
An hour he sat on the damp wood, eyes closed and attention focused fiercely inwards to battle the darkness that rode him. After a while the little gryphlet flew down from the trees to settle in his lap and add her efforts to his own until his breathing calmed. The walking staff was a necessity when he rose again, weakened by the battle, and he made his slow way deeper into the trees, letting his mind wander.
The other man would have a rude awakening when he tried to return from whence he came; the Wildwood was not kind to those who did not know how to traverse it, leading them in circles so that the harder they tried to reach a place, the further from it they would go. Perhaps the Fae would take pity on him eventually, for Jigano's sympathy had dried up for the time being, and he was content to let the stranger reap the consequences of his cruelty.
Something dark and wicked surged in his blood, snarling for satisfaction, for vengeance, for words to rip into this mad dog's throat, sinking to his level, reaching for the source of those tears and dragging a river from the beggar's eyes. And more than words, the urge to strike out with his staff, to wipe the savage malice from his face spiked hard and the lorekeeper's fingers tightened on the wood in his grip.
That urge to physical violence kept Jigano in check, the shock of it stemming the rising tide of black anger that had begun to turn the edges of his vision red. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood as he turned to walk away, and the stranger's words suddenly mattered not at all against the need to focus hard on his own self-control, his fingernails and teeth itching to elongate but for the discipline used to keep them blunt and human.
His breathing came in a pained hiss as he walked, and when he stopped it was less to remain close enough for the stranger to find him and more to drop to sit on a fallen log, seeking in meditation what the confrontation had cost him in control.
An hour he sat on the damp wood, eyes closed and attention focused fiercely inwards to battle the darkness that rode him. After a while the little gryphlet flew down from the trees to settle in his lap and add her efforts to his own until his breathing calmed. The walking staff was a necessity when he rose again, weakened by the battle, and he made his slow way deeper into the trees, letting his mind wander.
The other man would have a rude awakening when he tried to return from whence he came; the Wildwood was not kind to those who did not know how to traverse it, leading them in circles so that the harder they tried to reach a place, the further from it they would go. Perhaps the Fae would take pity on him eventually, for Jigano's sympathy had dried up for the time being, and he was content to let the stranger reap the consequences of his cruelty.
