It was probably a stroke of luck that Konrad's arm was half-numb from overgiving; if not, he'd likely have reacted faster when he felt that sudden tug on his arm... and Sloane might have been missing some teeth as a result.
His arm stopped swinging and he yanked out of her grasp out of instinct, free fist coming up as he swung around and-
Gods. He'd nearly done it, too.
He was about to start spewing a scolding when she began vomiting out her words. He stood there and blinked, looking very much like a cow who'd offended someone with a steak knife one day and never really got over it. His silence seemed to fuel her discomfort, as he just stared, wide-eyed and... utterly baffled.
Friends. She said you're her friend. She knows you, she's seen you with blood on your blade, and been close enough to know every scar on your face, and she-
Konrad blinked and his mouth opened a fraction. Was she... blushing?
There was a question. Somewhere in the morass of words, and without thinking he growled out, "No, yer not."
Maybe, but that didn't seem to bother her. She planted herself where she was, not as madly certain was that mad little fortune-teller had been, but much the same around the eyes. Her hands scratched and rubbed uncertainly, but she wasn't moving. Not her body, not her mind, now who she was.
Konrad sighed and took of his hat. Bloody heat. He swiped his sleeve across his brow and scowled up at Syna like it was a bird that had shit on his head.
"Bloody hells..."
To no-one in particular, of course. Just in general, delivered with a tired tone as he stuffed his hat back on his head... and then doffed it a touch when he could look her in the eyes.
"Yer a good girl," was all he could manage, and then he turned again, but damnit, he was not a cowrd, no matter what that Rufio bitch said. So just as she started to crumble again, he managed to blurt out, "I'll find yeh in a couple a' days. Always more trainin' t'be done. Sparrin', too."
That's enough, he warned himself as his lips started to trip over other words that weren't as friendly, at least not to him. Attachments were complications in his world. Weaknesses. Baggage that would weigh him down like a man set adrift in an ocean. So he paused, mouth gaping for a moment, and then kept walking, leaving her behind.
Friends. How bloody mad was she, anyway?
It was only when he'd got back to the Pavilion that he realized something: he'd never set a price for their next session. The day's had been simple enough, a repaired bow for some training with her blade, but the next... damn, and he had said he'd find her. If he didn't, she'd probably come looking again and...
"Bugger. Guess I better go through wiv' it"
"You feeling all right, Hansel?"
He looked up and frowned at a passing Sedon.
"Yes. Why you ask?"
"You're smiling."
"Oh... nothing."
Sedon just shrugged and turned away. All the better to hide his own grin.
His arm stopped swinging and he yanked out of her grasp out of instinct, free fist coming up as he swung around and-
Gods. He'd nearly done it, too.
He was about to start spewing a scolding when she began vomiting out her words. He stood there and blinked, looking very much like a cow who'd offended someone with a steak knife one day and never really got over it. His silence seemed to fuel her discomfort, as he just stared, wide-eyed and... utterly baffled.
Friends. She said you're her friend. She knows you, she's seen you with blood on your blade, and been close enough to know every scar on your face, and she-
Konrad blinked and his mouth opened a fraction. Was she... blushing?
There was a question. Somewhere in the morass of words, and without thinking he growled out, "No, yer not."
Maybe, but that didn't seem to bother her. She planted herself where she was, not as madly certain was that mad little fortune-teller had been, but much the same around the eyes. Her hands scratched and rubbed uncertainly, but she wasn't moving. Not her body, not her mind, now who she was.
Konrad sighed and took of his hat. Bloody heat. He swiped his sleeve across his brow and scowled up at Syna like it was a bird that had shit on his head.
"Bloody hells..."
To no-one in particular, of course. Just in general, delivered with a tired tone as he stuffed his hat back on his head... and then doffed it a touch when he could look her in the eyes.
"Yer a good girl," was all he could manage, and then he turned again, but damnit, he was not a cowrd, no matter what that Rufio bitch said. So just as she started to crumble again, he managed to blurt out, "I'll find yeh in a couple a' days. Always more trainin' t'be done. Sparrin', too."
That's enough, he warned himself as his lips started to trip over other words that weren't as friendly, at least not to him. Attachments were complications in his world. Weaknesses. Baggage that would weigh him down like a man set adrift in an ocean. So he paused, mouth gaping for a moment, and then kept walking, leaving her behind.
Friends. How bloody mad was she, anyway?
It was only when he'd got back to the Pavilion that he realized something: he'd never set a price for their next session. The day's had been simple enough, a repaired bow for some training with her blade, but the next... damn, and he had said he'd find her. If he didn't, she'd probably come looking again and...
"Bugger. Guess I better go through wiv' it"
"You feeling all right, Hansel?"
He looked up and frowned at a passing Sedon.
"Yes. Why you ask?"
"You're smiling."
"Oh... nothing."
Sedon just shrugged and turned away. All the better to hide his own grin.
