easy breezy

Sometimes during the long days the witch felt as though she were suffocating beneath the sweltering glare of the sun, baking into dust just as the ground beneath her feet. It buildings, she was sure. The stone. The broken roads. All of it was baking alive, putting her in quite a foul mood. Her mind buzzed with thoughts, more grim than not. Paralyzed by the heat for much of the day she found herself driven by restless energy into the early hours of dusk, patrolling the streets both for exercise and the experience - the ruins were vast and she had yet to investigate them fully.

Her footing was good, and she didn't stumble so readily now as she explored the streets that surrounded the Atheneum in wide lazy circles, noting interesting architecture or additions by the newcomers. Still, she carried the walking stick, though she rarely used it anymore for its intended purpose. Rather, anymore it felt like her only defense. She loved the stick and the false sense of security it gave her, hugging it with both hands across her chest, though it did not help clarify her thoughts any, though she could hardly fault it for this. It was only stick, after all.

A breath of blissfully cool air brought some relief, taking away some of the heat of the day. She stopped, glancing about to confirm her solitude before notching the stick in the crook of her left elbow and gathering up her hair. With a few turns of her wrist she'd wound it into a long coil, knotting it upon itself at the base of her neck. With the sun now vanishing behind a distant horizon she pulled up her sleeves and stood for a moment with her arms outstretched, begging for another gust. Just one.

Eli

He didn't quite know where he was going, nor why he was heading in the direction he was, but he strode with purpose down the various streets, weaving in and out of side alleys and paths. Pausing he looking around, his head still aching from whatever had happened to him, it had been a fair few hours since the incident, he still couldn't recall quite what had happened, only that he needed off this crazy rock. Massaging his temple calmly, he peered one way, and then the other, the street he was on appeared quite deserted, save for one or two people hurriedly moving to their final destinations; there was one woman however, standing quietly, arms outstretched. Really? Another weirdo, he wasn't surprised. Though- hm, perhaps she could be of aid, even if it was just a little.

With purpose he strode toward her, imposing steps echoing down the street, dancing between each building before reaching her; clearly he was heading right for her, without saying a word, not caring to shout, though this could of been construed as something a little more sinister; now although he wasn't the tallest of men, broad build more than made up for it, the shadows hiding his face as he approached, closer and closer. Surely this would end well, right?

The wind had all but vanished as she raised her arms, stringing her along with a few piddly puffs. Dismayed, she'd lingered there long enough to attract attention, which admittedly didn't seem long at all in Caido. With the great bunch of nothing that shaped the sparse settlement that had grown out of the ruins it wasn't surprising that people just seemed drawn to more of their ilk. She'd noticed his footsteps first, tucking her arms as the first resolute steps of boots on paving stone caught her ear, cautiously fanning the collar of her tunic a few times before realizing that that weirdo was headed for her!

In her short stay here Mel had grown comfortably accustomed to being approached though she still bore her scars, some running deeper than flesh. Dark and brooding and built to hurt the stranger was easily picked out from the native population as she didn't think there was enough meat in this barren sprawl to feed a man that big in the first place. Maybe it was just his face, but in the lengthening shadows he certainly didn't look friendly.

As he drew closer, Mel scanned the streets, her breath quickening and her grip tightening on her stick as she considered a route of escape, wondering with rising panic if she even knew the streets well enough to make it somewhere familiar, or if she'd simply get lost.

The latter seemed more realistic, that was if she even managed out out strip him. Big as he was he didn't seem to have much of a limp and looked as though he could run all day carrying his bodyweight in supplies. There was no way.

She was out of time - she could hear him. Mel turned, staggering in place a few steps before finding her balance one again with the aid of the stick clutched in her left hand, fixing him with a piercing glare that might even have had a teacher or two shivering. "Can I help you?" Her grip tightened, lips pressed into a thin, neutral line.

She hoped that he'd walk on by.

"You there I-" He cut himself off, stopping just short of her he glowered as her words hit him full square in the face. Was she really going to take that tone with him? His lip curled slightly with annoyance and he exhaled, raising his head a little as the sun once more doused the street revealing a scarred, weathered face of a man who'd perhaps seen a little bit too much in his short enough life. "Excuse me? Would you like to -repeat- that in a way which isn't so confrontational." He growled, the words shooting from his lips like bullets. He tensed, perhaps this was a bad idea, she clearly was of little help, just like Are, that oddly dressed fool who'd attempted with little effect to help him.

He waited, scowling at her, for her to apologise and ask again, idly spreading his weight to both legs in a sort of ready stance, just in case she tried anything with that stick, though looking at her, he doubted she could even lift a flower up, let alone wield a makeshift weapon. No, clearly she wasn't someone to watch out for, merely an odd girl in an odd place. He really needed to get off this rock, though he didn't hold out much hope.

Melinoë

Was he really going to take that tone with her? Mel puffed an exasperated huff through her nostrils, not budging as she looked him over, a finger of red sunlight confirming that it was definitely his face. He was much more unpleasant when he was scowling. She scoffed with laughter, her face crinkling in a genuine expression of cruel bemusement at the snarled command, wetting her lips as she shook her head. "Where is it you think you are?" The question cracked like a whip, the witch's lip curling up to show her teeth in an alarmingly vicious snarl for such a tiny thing.

She neither cowered nor advanced on him, simply holding her ground. Her grip on the stick remained white-knuckled, her expression lapsing back to a cool glare that made it clear that he was not excused, and perhaps she had mistaken him for an unruly child.

He felt a cool gust travel down the street as they stood off against one another, neither one backing down, they were both clearly as stubborn as mules. He inhaled slowly, letting the silence wash over them for but a moment before he continued. "Quite honestly, I have no idea, now. Are you going to repeat your damn question or not." It didn't sound like much of itself a question, but a demand, staring daggers at her, eyes narrowed in a scowl. He didn't care at this point if she helped him or not, the principle of the thing was what drove him now, no one was going to speak to him like that, and he'd stand here for hours if it meant getting the small thing to his front to back down.

A man passed them suddenly, gazing at the two curiously before he was hurried along by a glare from Monnrow, now, why was it this little thing was so stubborn as to not back down? True, she herself looked like she'd been through the millstone a few times, the eye patch made that quite certain, though he suspected this was exactly why she'd got it in the first place, not caring to back down until it'd been too late.

Eyes now gazing to her stick he murmured, it was easy enough to disarm her if worse came to worse, he doubted she'd expect it, she most likely thought all he had to do was beat him over the head a few times and he'd run for it. The sudden glare of the dimming sun slowly making its way below the horizon caught him off guard as he turned his head away, eyes shutting for an instant. Damned thing, the stand off had been interrupted.

She waited, head cocked to the side at the remarkable show of restraint on the part of a man that ticked all the boxes for being dangerously familiar with violence. The witch tried not to think about how it might have happened any other way, though there were things before the river that she yet remembered. Things that terrified her, things that made her see red rage.

Rage was the fuel to her steely resolve, burning clean and hot. It was absolute and it made her impervious to everything in the way that youth made teenagers live forever. It made her just stupid enough to act like a smartass. Still, it was a good act. Mel played by a set of simple rules, the foremost of which being that if you flinched, you lost. She assumed she had always been a sore loser, just as she assumed the rules were universal.

Seconds ticked by with no response from the tight-lipped woman as she waited, flashing a grin as Eli flinched like he had invented it, turning on heel to walk away several strides, only to stop, sniffing a breath. Admittedly, it seemed mean spirited if he was harmless but for his manners and she hadn't been all that lucid on arrival either. The Spire was much closer than it had seemed walking to the infirmary not so long ago herself, and she wondered if maybe he had managed to wander in by accident after being dumped here. While he looked capable of taking care of himself from a physical standpoint, Mel had to admit to herself that he seemed a bit disoriented and maybe a bit of a meathead, and if she was really honest with herself, helpless. She had only scratched the surface of coming to understand the intricacies of life on Caido and it wasn't as if they were leaving any time soon.

Heaving an audible sigh she rolled her eye, glancing back at him over her left shoulder. "Not a chance, but you seem a bit lost. You can follow me back to the temple so long as I don't get the both of us lost." She didn't wait for long - he'd walk or he'd lose her - and while not all that confident with her sense of direction she could make the building out in the distance against a darkening sky - they'd find it. She was sure.

He sneered a little as the sun finally subsided, lowering below the horizon enough to not burn his retinas out. Was she really just going to walk away from him? Leave him? Bah- he didn't need her. He was just about to make his own way when she chirped up with her offer. As he listened, he felt both irritated and relived, he wasn't about to follow her like a lost puppy in search of shelter, but, he weighed up, he wasn't exactly in a position to refuse any sort of help, this 'temple' might be a good place to rest, recuperate, sort his head out.

With a sigh he grunted a response. "Fine." He started after her, keeping in step with her quite easily. They both wandered along the streets in silence for a while; it wasn't like he cared to speak to her, merely use her to get to this temple. Though, what sort of temple was it? Another ruin? A fully functional building with people? Priests? Perhaps they had a way of contacting the people he needed to, perhaps they were the ones to get him out of here and back to civilisation, because honestly? This was a primitive, backwards world, one very different to the one he was used to, very different indeed.

As they walked he took note of people who passed, some of them looked like they had seen a few too many winters, hobbling along as a snail's pace. Others hurriedly ducking between individuals. One poor man almost even collided with Monnrow as he tried to pass, causing Monnrow to push the man aside roughly with a gruff "Watch it." This caused the man to almost topple over in to a group of chatting women, which he only narrowly avoided by barging into a nearby wall instead. Clearly Monnrow wasn't the type of man to consider 'accidents' anything more than annoyances.

So it seemed Mel didn't see annoyances as accidents, and though she had no particular love for any of these strangers, Eli's lack of manners caused her to draw up to a halt, sharply jabbing the stick into his path to stop or trip him, the teacher-chilling death stare returned as she rounded on him. "Hey." She rapped the stick sharply on the road. Sanctuary was not her first choice of homes but neither was she about to ignore the charity that had been extended to her as she recovered. These people had kept her alive through charity, and though she begrudged the concept of carrying a debt, she felt somehow responsible for correcting the rough and tumble moron's over the top aggression.

She did not raise her voice, though there was a natural edge of command in her clipped demand for attention. She drew close, invading his space as he had hers, keeping her attention trained on his face. It was only as she drew near that she lowered her voice, and at a volume that kept the sentiment strictly between them, she made her point. "Don't you fucking do that again." She pronounced the word with venom, cracking an unfriendly smile before easing away from him, all in all a rather polite tearing of a new one, or the threat of it, at least. "I don't know where you came from, but that won't work here. Apologize."

He halted suddenly, staring down at the stick, what on earth was she doing? As the abrupt sharpness of her voice found him he jerked his head upwards, staring at her, slightly stunned at her reaction as well as the way she was going to chide him about his manners. He simply glared at her. The man whom he had pushed simply watched, mouth agape at the tiny woman squaring up against the large, surly brute who'd just pushed him.

As Melinoë finished he simply watched her for a minute, eyes narrowing dangerously. He nodded a little before his head turned to the man who quickly ran for it, not daring to be anywhere near him. A small laugh came from Monnrow as he looked back and sneered, not saying a word at this point; who was she to dictate to him how he could treat people, if the man had been watching where he was going none of this would of happened, and she dared tell him -he- was at fault? Ridiculous. He looked down at the stick again, and back up at her, still not saying a word. Finally he made a move, stepping over the stick with a single step, bypassing her quite rudely to move to her front before turning. "We're wasting time. Lead."

Clearly he wasn't going to even comment on how she'd just acted, merely choosing to ignore the fact she'd tried to chastise him for something that clearly wasn't his fault. Though whether or not he'd admit it, he was partly impressed by her tone and overall attitude toward something she did not approve of, he'd give her that one at least.

Red rage spiked again, dominating her vision as he moved on ahead and past her temporary barrier - while she hadn't expected it to work she also wasn't terribly accepting of his response. He had only taken several steps beyond the stick before she made her move, swinging the stick like a club at the unprotected soft spot behind the man's knees.

He was like a bull in a china shop, and she had no intention of allowing his rampage to continue. "Sit."

With a single swing to the back of the knees, his legs buckled from the sudden impact; he snarled, falling down, yet managed to steady himself as he went, planting a single knee to the ground, rage now contorting his features, his head spun around to look at her, poison shooting from his mismatched eyes. He exhaled, pushing himself back up in a single movement. He turned on her now, closing the distance between the two. He had put up with her for this long, but this was the final straw, the one that broke the camel's back. Actually striking him? A bad idea. A very bad idea.

With a quick, trained movement, he went for her stick, curling his hand around the shaft before roughly tugging it away from her grip in the hopes of disarming her; he didn't expect her to be able to keep a hold of it to be quite honest. He didn't speak during any of this, instead his visage was a mix of anger and cold fury and although he had no intention of striking her, she wasn't to know that was she. But why in the hell had she done this? All he wanted was to rest, to actually get to this damn temple, but no; because he'd insulted her moral principles from giving a man a light shove away from him, that was cause to attack him. It was utter bullshit in his mind, and he was going to make sure it wouldn't happen again.

If you flinched, you lost. She breathed in, controlling herself as she met his gaze, his eyes burning with what she could only interpret as murderous fury. This thrilled something in her despite the absence of her passenger, the adrenaline rush that raised the fine hairs along her nape. The expression she wore in turn did not mirror his contempt, but rather appeared strangely collected in the face of the impending storm, dignified even as he rose to his feet and stepped forward.

Mel did not fight him for the stick - there was no reason to. There would be no contest in close quarters, her physical strength laughable compared to, well, most. Rather, she simply allowed him to take it, breathing steadily through her nose as she maintained eye contact, rage building in her chest, tempering her resolve and hardening her stone-like expression and stubbornly square shoulders. Either she had assumed he wouldn't hit her or she simply didn't care.

She didn't care. That was what Melinoë told herself as she waited for a blow to fall, but perhaps she did, as in the street, just between them, the shadows about the witch appeared to blur and bleed, ominous and slow as if the contrast of the twilight shadows were being pushed up. When the shadows had grown pitch black, like ink, they began to drip in a thick, viscous flow from her person, gathering like black water at her feet. "Do it." Her voice came a breathy, practiced calm, the pronunciation clipped and inviting no discourse - as soon as the word had been spoken, the image broke, having lasted only the span of a few seconds at most, a subtle, but ominous figment that none of the on lookers seemed to have taken notice of, still watching in tense concern as the brute loomed over her.

Eli wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, his mind had gone almost completely blank as a powerful sense of dread filled his body, he swallowed, taking a step back with the stick still firmly grasped in hand. What was this? Had his mind just completely gone, had all sense left him, or- was this something else. His gaze whipped round to the onlookers, they didn't seem too concerned by the sights before them, as if, they didn't care or- couldn't see?

His head span round again, eyes widening just a little, he grit his teeth, tensing. No. This wasn't right, she wasn't right; something about her. But the sight was gone just as fast as it had happened and so they stood their, a cool nightly breeze whipping up, sending a chill down his spine. It was deadly quiet. Almost too quiet. He looked at her, body tense, as if he was about to explode in a fit of bitter anger.

His faculties came back to him in an instant, his mind began to slowly work again, as if time had once more begun, he snarled, whipping round, stick in hand as it collided with the side of a building, snapping in to two, jagged splinters, he dropped the part he was holding, whirling back around on her, eyes on fire. The onlookers were startled out of complacency as they quickly scurried off, daring not to tempt the wrath of the man unlike what the silly, small woman was clearly doing.

"Enough. I'll find it on my own." His words came firm, final, like poison. He was done playing this game with her, he would find the temple on his own and he cared not what she had to say.