"Met" was a gentle term to describe their first interaction - he had terrified her that evening early in Longheat, his stomping approach and brusque lack of tact had raised some instinctual alarm in her then that had been understood to be one in the same with rage. She had viewed him with absolute contempt that day, despite the brevity of their interaction. Where she had shown a measure of compassion and empathy for others before, the soldier's hostility with not only her but the unfortunate souls sharing the road with them that night had stirred her to fight.
Memory of the threat she had perceived him to be challenged her current impression of him. Though he did not look like the monster she had imagined when she brought the grudge up to nurse it, he had still be an absolute asshole and had robbed her of a vital possession by shattering the staff. As her eyes narrowed, she looked him over as well, placing her free-hand on her hip and hugged the flax-bundle to her chest, glaring at him over the bristling root ends. "No-" She was meek at first, her voice soft and uncertain as she looked him over several more times, focusing on his hands, his elbows. Her shoulders sloped for only a heartbeat as she drew her shoulders back together and leeeeaned away from him in a way both subtle and not. Where it looked like she might fall back a step she instead stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move backwards, crippled by the fear that she might stumble at an inopportune time. Image was everything.
"No." She repeated herself more firmly, sniffing a breath and lengthening her spine and squaring her shoulders. "No, you owe me a staff." He had pissed her off, now it was time to work, bitch.
Memory of the threat she had perceived him to be challenged her current impression of him. Though he did not look like the monster she had imagined when she brought the grudge up to nurse it, he had still be an absolute asshole and had robbed her of a vital possession by shattering the staff. As her eyes narrowed, she looked him over as well, placing her free-hand on her hip and hugged the flax-bundle to her chest, glaring at him over the bristling root ends. "No-" She was meek at first, her voice soft and uncertain as she looked him over several more times, focusing on his hands, his elbows. Her shoulders sloped for only a heartbeat as she drew her shoulders back together and leeeeaned away from him in a way both subtle and not. Where it looked like she might fall back a step she instead stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move backwards, crippled by the fear that she might stumble at an inopportune time. Image was everything.
"No." She repeated herself more firmly, sniffing a breath and lengthening her spine and squaring her shoulders. "No, you owe me a staff." He had pissed her off, now it was time to work, bitch.
