OOCFair enough, I have no issues with it. I think you may have pushed it a bit, but good idea being creative with the different skills. That's the whole idea. Although, you should know Intelligence refers to stuff like spying, not a character's actual intelligence. That thankfully has been left to our discretion. Strong hands wrapped around her, shoving the girl’s face forward over the gravel and earth. Smothered in the cloud of dust her chin had scraped up Eleanor felt a heavy weight settle over her lungs. How did this idiot manage to pin me? She felt waves of anger and embarrassment bubbling beneath the pressure of his body. It forced its way to the nearest exit, and Eleanor began to holler with rage. “Get your fat ass off of me! I swear I’m going to shred you into little bits and scatter your filthy remains for the crows to pick at!” Twisting from side to side the thin teenager tried to throw the boy off. Her legs kicked as her body jerked around beneath him, trying to connect with his head, spine or rump. Her writhing muscles heated with anger. “I doubt the crows would want your nasty hide though! Disgusting low-life! Wretched cheater! You might give them indigestion. Now get your stinking carcass OFF. OF. ME!” Though the insults began to slow Eleanor’s thrashing became more violent. As she swung from side to side in Bryan’s grip her face whipped closer to one of his hands. Teeth gnashing she tried to clamp down on a finger or two, wondering if that might loosen his grip. As she bit for Bryan’s hand a voice, cocky and deep, interrupted the small scene. “Hey man, need some help with that bitch?” Another voice chimed in, lighter that the first, and laughing. “Yeah, we love to share.” Perhaps the pair had not heard the two men approaching over Eleanor’s racket, but she was silent now. The girl gulped, her throat covered in dust that clung to the hot beads of sweat that had gathered with her protests. The men who had approached looked to be a year or two older than herself. Each had tawny hair and pale skin, though the older man, the one who had spoken first, wore his long, and tied back at the nape of his neck. The other let his hair, and beard, grow short, rough and wild, but they both shared the same sharp nose and hungry look. I sure petching hope this Bryan kid doesn’t want in with them… she nearly prayed, as the two walked closer. Sweat sank through the greasy fibers of her shirt, mingling with the still sticky salt from her exertion. But the men couldn’t see her sweating, or hear her thoughts as they approached, and Eleanor hoped they couldn’t guess them. |