Aurelia
and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?
The hubbub of the docks seems to have its natural flow, seamen chatting and harking about their wayward stories, barrels of fish and other usual items being hauled to and fro. Melita cleans her cannons dutifully. None of this would strike a flare of suspicion in Aurelia.
She stands naturally alongside her spitfire friend, engaged in casual conversation about bow techniques, her own fierce Bowregard cast over one shoulder in light of this. It grows more and more comfortable in her grip with each passing day and she seems to beam with pride over the expansion of her skillset.
This, of course, is a peaceful moment suddenly come undone. Shouts fill the air and Aurelia's head snaps over her shoulder, hands immediately fishing for the knife at her waist - out of familiarity. She hesitates as she tries to seek out what's gone wrong this time.
The warning hones her attentions in on the individuals that have seemed to cause the ruckus. She doesn't particularly recognize the box; they all look the same to her. But if Melita is certain enough to line up a shot, then there's nothing to ponder over.
The knife is forgotten, too small, too restricted in reach. Instead, her own bow is lifted, prepared, and snaps with the release of an arrow. A warning shot, surely, because it digs into the shallows of the water mere feet ahead of the group of men.
Four of them, to be exact, all of whom whip around to face their attackers. Aurelia marches across the docks, never yielding, but she doesn't leap into the fray like she wants to. There are a few too many of them for that idea to be any good. "I don't think that belongs to you," she growls out instead.
One of the men, perhaps the bolder of the four, unsheathes a deadly looking scimitar and glares forward.
"Come and take it, then," he heralds a mocking grin at her, revealing yellowed teeth. Meanwhile, his henchman continue to try and hurry the box away like the cowardly thieves they are.
She stands naturally alongside her spitfire friend, engaged in casual conversation about bow techniques, her own fierce Bowregard cast over one shoulder in light of this. It grows more and more comfortable in her grip with each passing day and she seems to beam with pride over the expansion of her skillset.
This, of course, is a peaceful moment suddenly come undone. Shouts fill the air and Aurelia's head snaps over her shoulder, hands immediately fishing for the knife at her waist - out of familiarity. She hesitates as she tries to seek out what's gone wrong this time.
The warning hones her attentions in on the individuals that have seemed to cause the ruckus. She doesn't particularly recognize the box; they all look the same to her. But if Melita is certain enough to line up a shot, then there's nothing to ponder over.
The knife is forgotten, too small, too restricted in reach. Instead, her own bow is lifted, prepared, and snaps with the release of an arrow. A warning shot, surely, because it digs into the shallows of the water mere feet ahead of the group of men.
Four of them, to be exact, all of whom whip around to face their attackers. Aurelia marches across the docks, never yielding, but she doesn't leap into the fray like she wants to. There are a few too many of them for that idea to be any good. "I don't think that belongs to you," she growls out instead.
One of the men, perhaps the bolder of the four, unsheathes a deadly looking scimitar and glares forward.
"Come and take it, then," he heralds a mocking grin at her, revealing yellowed teeth. Meanwhile, his henchman continue to try and hurry the box away like the cowardly thieves they are.
and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong
